Immortal
by Ruse
Summary: Legolas hunts the trail of Lady Celebrian into the Misty Mountains. FINISHED
1. The Hunter

**Immortal**  
Prologue - The Hunter

Legolas was among those who found the wife of Lord Elrond after her ill-fated attack on the way home from Lothlórien. His investigation of the matter lands him into trouble, not to mention painful, haunting memories. (Heavy on Legolas and Elrond plots, non-slash)

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The blue dim that came before the stars was settling over the road and all was silent. Not a sound came from the woods, nor did the wind whisper in the trees. It was calm and pleasant, true—a night to revel in nature. It was like the kind of peace that came when a storm was calling all energy to its bidding on a path of destruction not far away. The kind of peace that trained eyes knew to be wary of.

There had been scant signs of life here for some few days. A stray bird or rodent perhaps, but nothing that lingered within the forest near the road. The sole being that did remain here despite all the warning signs had seen this type of quiet many times and knew the doom it foretold. He sat high within one of the trees, his back leaned against the massive trunk and his eyes upon the ground, mindful of anything amiss. Soon he would be on the move again, hunting that which had left little telltale signs of passage behind for the Elf to follow. He did not take well to this sort of company intruding upon the grounds so near his home.

The quiet would betray the footsteps of most, but not this hunter. He was skilled in the ways of stealth and could move without fear of being heard, even placed within a silent wood where the leaves had fallen to the ground for the season. Moving to a crouch on his perch, Legolas of Mirkwood listened to the air and then dropped down below, fading fast from the brush of the forest.

He took right to the road, for he knew his quarry would not be near enough to merit the caution that would keep him away from a short examination of the grounds. Sure enough there were the tracks in plain sight, footsteps made by heavy boots. Legolas bent down and touched his hand to the soft earth, trying to ascertain how many may have passed and if there were any foreign footprints mixed in. The number had been more than a few, he thought, but not so many that he could not handle if he were swift and careful. He could see no sign that there had been anyone else with them, but by experience he knew that meant very little. Many had been carried off to their dooms in the inevitable location he knew he must go to solve this mystery.

Straightening, Legolas ran back into the trees off road and broke into a sprint, following along side the path. His far-reaching sight could not find them in any direction, but he would guard himself against what may lay ahead. Who could foretell what doom may lay hidden in the shadows on up ahead? They were near enough at least to use caution while tailing them. He could catch up to them by morning, he felt certain. Then he could see what mischief they were up to. Orcs could never be doing anything good, never anything greater than reprehensible.

Not that he made practice of following orcs whenever the opportunity presented itself, but the slain Elves he had found when morning dawned had bothered him greatly, had angered him. The horses had been stripped of their meat and left beside the bodies of their masters, Elves with the dark hair and dressing that suggested Imladris. There had been three tormented males that had more than likely served as guards to the lady that belonged to the single shoe he had found on the road. She could not be found anywhere on the site; they had to have taken her. He liked not to think on what they could be doing to an Elf-maid away from the reaches of her home.

He had his bow and his sword ready for when he would be forced to see it first-hand. They would pay for their crime. That he would see to with all due haste.

The Prince of Mirkwood ran the whole of the night, rested well enough and driven by the need to see this through. He could not bear to see any come to the tormenting hands of the servants of darkness. He _hated_ it.

When dawn broke upon the horizon Legolas stopped and studied the woods ahead of him, listening for the sounds of birds. There was not a song to be heard, which told him that the orcs could not be far ahead. He would have to mind his surroundings with greater caution now. Slipping from among the trees he approached the road slowly, peering from around the side of a great oak, but could see little through the dense forest ahead. The entrance to the High Pass was very close. His quarry had likely ascended the mountain trail and taken to black, hidden dens within.

Drawing his bow, Legolas retreated into the brush and began towards the Pass with a firm intent. The air was deathly still, but his ears caught the hint of something nearby. No creature of the forest would dare remain near to an orc camp. It had to be a sign of his prey.

He was quick and skilled, not breaking a stick or stirring a leaf as he headed on towards the noise ahead. As he neared he soon recognized the deep voices of the dark ones. The words became clear to him all too soon and he stopped to listen, soon to regret that he did so.

"Tired of bleeding the Elf-witch, huh?" The voice rasped into the ears of the prince and he set his jaw in anger.

The beast's companion rumbled a terrible laugh. "She's unconscious. Fragile little thing as Elves go. I'm getting hungry though. You ever tasted an Elf?"

The former snarled in disgust. "She'd barely feed one of us. Best to just toy with her and leave her dead where her kind can find her."

Knowing that time was not on the side of the one taken, Legolas hunkered down and drew nearer, seeing them now from the shadows. A large one with glittery eyes seemed to be watching his companion with a suspicious glare. "You want her for yourself!" he accused, drawing his sword. The prince knit his brow, aghast at the quarrelsome nature of orcs.

"What?" the other piped in quickly, hefting itself up and standing ready. "I said no such thing!"

"Yeah, but you was thinkin' it. Admit it!"

Notching an arrow and pointing, Legolas breathed, "Orcs," and made ready to end the argument for them.

A twig broke behind him and the Prince of Mirkwood cursed himself as the two stopped their bickering to watch him. They had trapped him, waited for him and lured him in. Legolas tried desperately to turn mere seconds after his realization, but something very hard hit the back of his head. He dropped to his knees and the last thing he heard as his vision clouded was the sneering voice of one of his enemies, hissing a sarcastic mirror of his disgust. "_Elves_."

He was out before he hit the forest floor.

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**Author: **Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**A/N**: I'm not sure how detailed the account of Celebrían's sad tale is, but my inspiration compelled me to tell the tale in this way. :) Hope you enjoy!


	2. Captive

**Immortal**  
Chapter 1 - Captive

Legolas was among those who found the wife of Lord Elrond after her ill-fated attack on the way home from Lothlórien. His investigation of the matter lands him into trouble, not to mention painful, haunting memories. (Heavy on Legolas and Elrond plots, non-slash)

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Never before had Legolas of Mirkwood considered what it would be like to be in such a pain that would rob him of his ability to think clearly, assess and get himself out of danger. There was always a first time for everything. He had the wits about him to remain still and hold his tongue despite the terrible headache he was suffering, but he held off for a bit on the planning. The surface he was on was cool and pleasant and if he could discipline himself enough to not move, he could almost remember what it was like to be free of such pain.

When a wave of dizziness passed, Legolas considered what he could ascertain from his current position. He was on his chest, his hands above his head, bound by heavy manacles. His left cheek was pressed against the stone ground and his nose was uncomfortably close to his forearm, nearly smothering him. Aside from the throbbing in his head he did not believe he was otherwise injured.

That understood, Legolas opened himself up to the setting outside his own little dreadful corner of wherever they had laid him. He could hear the crackling of a fire, could smell the foul stench of orcs. Their voices made him wish he had not come awake with their darkness and volume. Brushing past himself, Legolas forced himself to focus on their words. "You let the ale get warm! Get me another!" The sound of liquid slapping against stone preceded the crack of a wooden mug hitting the floor.

"Perhaps I would have arrived sooner had you not injured my leg," replied a soft voice, whose shaking timbre betrayed fear and pain. It was feminine and most definitely Elvish. The wisdom of the years had aged this voice beyond his own youthful countenance.

A harsh slap filled the air, she groaned and then fell. Legolas deemed the time for resting over and pushed himself up, ready to go to her aid despite the odds. His vision blurred a little from his fast movement, then cleared as he looked upon a form curled up on the floor near a crudely set up table where at least six orcs were laughing. For a moment all he could think was how her pale blue dress was ruined by filth and blood.

"Well now you done it," growled a member of the party that was not amused—the self-same one that had bested him. He sat at the head of the table near where the Elf-woman had fallen, nudging her with his boot. "She's out again. Now _you_ get up and get our ale, you maggot!"

The offender made a deep, unhappy rumbling sound in the back of his throat, but obeyed and snatched his cup up from the floor. When he saw Legolas, he stopped and twisted his head to the side. "Well, well. The little one's awake. What's the matter, brat? We rob you of your mother?"

Legolas looked around for any sign of his weapons. "Avanich, ind ae lín adar gâr lín thîr, ingon torog ubennen le lín!" He saw no sign of any implements of escape.  
-_You didn't, but if your father has your face, I guess a troll denied you yours._

The orc neared and drew his foot back, making ready to kick him, but his commander stopped him. "Knock that one out before we can cut him and I'll have my fun sticking holes in _you!_"

Glaring down, his would-be attacker hissed, "You wait, Elf. You just wait." Curling his lip, the orc lumbered off into another part of the caves.

Legolas leaned back against the rock he had been placed near, composing himself as another wave of pain seared through his head. Looking at the apparent leader through half-lidded eyes, he said, "Will you allow me to see to her?"

The leader shook his head. "She'll wake up in due time. Besides, you'll be busy." That most likely did not mean anything pleasant. Legolas tensed when he stood from the table and approached, looking down in mild amusement. "I am Goralûk. Remember that for the next few days."

"Why only the next few days?" he asked, supposing the answer already.

He was not disappointed. "That's how long you have to live, Elf. And I suggest you keep your pretty words inside your head and speak Common if you'd like to keep it."

Legolas closed his eyes. "I shall try to remember." For his insolence he was rewarded with a backhanded blow to the cheek that drove him down to the ground again. His head spun and he did not get back up. He heard the orc grunt as it walked away, listened as it hauled the other Elf up and dragged her closer. She hit the floor beside Legolas and made a soft, pained sound.

The Prince of Mirkwood shifted himself to look at her, opening his eyes to the garish light. Her golden hair covered her face, but he could see blue eyes looking beyond the strands at him. Bracing himself up painfully, Legolas reached for her and brushed her hair back, gasping at the eyes that stared back. It was the Lady of Imladris, the wife of Lord Elrond and mother to the twin princes he counted as friends. He knew her face, for it was not unlike theirs. Her lip was cracked and bloody, her face bruised. It was a sore sight to behold of any Elf, especially one so gentle as she. "Are you all right?" he asked in a soft tone.

Goralûk sneered at his concern and kicked his arm back from her. Legolas fell and glared at his enemy, hungering for the moment when these fiends would pay for their actions. Smirking at his malcontent, the orc retreated back to where the others were drinking.

The Prince of Mirkwood bit back his anger and sat up to see of the woman he had come to rescue. Lady Celebrían stirred as he brushed his fingers against her cheek. When her eyes fixed on his face they were pained, but calm. "I endure. You are Legolas?" she asked, her eyes glinting with the question.

He knew instinctively why she had not referred to his title. If the orcs learned they held important figures their danger could become all the worse. He nodded at her question, knitting his brow as he looked her over. A sudden tension began in the pit of his stomach. He stopped himself, as he always did, from exploring the oncoming thoughts, focusing on the here and now. "And I know you as well. Does he expect you home?" His hope was that Lord Elrond would send of his guardians to search for her.

Her eyes misted as she nodded gravely. She said nothing, laying very still and closing her eyes. The prince knew not how long she must have endured the company of these orcs, but by now she would be exhausted. His heart went out to her, for he could tell she was already wearing down. They were going to have to get out of here fast, but there were many foes and his weapons were gone.

"Elf," rasped Goralûk, his eyes fixed upon Legolas.

Meeting the hungry gaze, he sat up with nothing less than confidence written upon his features. "I have a name."

This amused the orc greatly, who laughed, then shook his head. "Get up."

"And if I refuse?" he asked hotly, though he knew there would be little patience spared for his defiance. He would use wisdom, but he would not be broken.

The beast's lips twitched into a hopeful grin. "You watch me hurt her."

It was a bad situation. They would use them against each other, tormenting one if the other did not obey orders. Legolas looked down at the unconscious form, knowing he could not allow harm to come to her, even if meant his own pain. His head throbbing, he brought himself to his feet, displaying as little weakness as he could. "What do you want?" His tone was short and deep, filled with contempt.

Goralûk watched him with full recognition of his situation glittering in two black eyes. He knew the Elf was cornered, knew he could do little else than obey or pay the consequences. Ghoulish, shining eyes in the shadows waited to see what Legolas would do, hungry for him to make a mistake that would allow their leader to relent for their fun. These beings despised Elves, for they were everything their forebears used to be. Everything they could never be. Legolas dared not show his fear, but he felt as though the cave walls were closing in on him.

The orc motioned to the table for him to sit. "We're going to talk about your home."

Crossing his arms, Legolas made his way to the table, scouting for his weapons along the way. There was no sign. Frustrated, he sat down as far from the others as he could, glaring at his enemy. Goralûk seemed to enjoy that.

**Author: **Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**A/N**: Thank you to everyone who reviewed or sent an email!!! You made my day! :D Hope you enjoy this next chapter!


	3. Scheming

**Immortal**  
Scheming

Legolas was among those who found the wife of Lord Elrond after her ill-fated attack on the way home from Lothlórien. His investigation of the matter lands him into trouble, not to mention painful, haunting memories. (Heavy on Legolas and Elrond plots, non-slash)

Elladan could be quite convincing and charming when he wanted to be. He had a handsome face with large, gray eyes that pierced the hearts of young ladies. He made promises that he knew would gain your favor—and made good on his word. His voice was disarming, his personality charismatic and noble. None of these things worked on his little sister, however. Wearing one of his most pleading expressions, Elladan said, "Please, Arwen, do this for your favorite brother, hmm?"

Lounging on a chair, his leg slung over the arm, Elrohir snorted and watched the little encounter with amusement. Arwen, his once tiny sister who had grown into a woman somewhere along the way, shook her head firmly, her arms crossed and her eyes twinkling. "How do you know you're her favorite brother?" he asked mildly.

His twin gave him a sly grin. "Of course I am, Elrohir. I give her sweets and you give her grief."

Elrohir blinked at this. "Dear Arwen, do I give you grief?"

"You both do," the princess stated calmly, moving from Elladan's influence into a chair placed before a window. She curled her fingers around the arms of it, looking at her brother speculatively.

"I've seen that before," Elrohir remarked thoughtfully, then brought his brows up. "Mother. That's how she looks when she's willing to 'negotiate'. You know how that goes."

Elladan gave her a mournful look. "Not you, little one. Please." He wandered to the couch opposite her and flopped down. "Ada's been too wrapped up in his work of late, Arwen. You can make him smile."

Arwen tilted her head, her blue eyes twinkling. "I do not have to play a joke on him to make him smile." She blinked, studying his face, gauging his reaction. He seemed to be breaking, so she pressed on. "Why is it, Muindor**1**, you want so badly for me to do this?"

The twins exchanged glances, the younger grinning at his scheming elder brother. "She's got you there, Elladan. What is it you're playing at, anyway?"

"Must I be playing at something?" he retorted very innocently. He usually had another agenda when bargaining for Arwen's aid, but there were some few times where his motives were solely intent on teaching her the higher points of having fun by way of pranks. This time neither Arwen nor Elrohir could quite tell for certain which it was, but by the persistence Elrohir guessed there was some reason Elladan wished his father to be distracted. "Is it so terrible a thing I ask?"

"Mmm I don't know, Elladan. Tell me again what I must do." Arwen smiled obligingly.

Widening his eyes, Elrohir sat up quickly, very dramatically. "Where is it I have seen that face? By the Valar, Elladan, she looks like _you!_"

The elder twin frowned as his brother sat back with a chuckle. "All right, little one. Father is dining in the gardens for lunch. I will commandeer the tray from the maiden that delivers it and give it to you. Elrohir will hold the plate while you place the mouse I captured on the tray in its place. Give it to Ada."

"Now he inducts me into this filthy little scheme," the younger muttered. Elladan gave him a little look.

Arwen nodded as if processing the information, then gazed up with a question. "Where does the maid go? She is supposed to be on duty, is she not?"

Silence filled the little sitting room. The siblings looked at each other, then Elrohir laughed. "She's a very smart little thing. She knows you through and through, Muindor."

"Quiet you," Elladan breathed, trying desperately to reason with his brother and sister. "Arwen, love and light of my life. Princess. One of these days there will come a handsome young stable boy, or page, or whatever into your life and for some very obscure reason, Ada is bound to disapprove. Especially where you're concerned, I would imagine. Who is it you will turn to when you need help of this sort? And I promise you, it _will_ happen."

"Why should I do this for you?" she asked very plainly.

Her brother smiled. "Because you love me?" Arwen sighed at his response and he added, "Because I know a young lady that has been wanting to ride out of Imladris to test her horsemanship in the open wilds. She has a brother that would be willing to take her, for if he does not she may well remain in the safety of her home until she becomes an old maid for the love of her protective father."

The princess blinked. "What if Ada gets mad about the mouse? He has been irritable of late."

Seeing his goal so close to being achieved, Elladan waved his hand dismissively. "Forget the mouse part. Just give him lunch because you love him and he will smile adoringly. You win on all counts. What say you, little one?"

Arwen drew a speculating breath, looking for the truth within her brother's eyes. He may just have a point in saying someday she would understand the true meaning behind his playful pastimes with the fair maidens of Imladris. Nodding once, she agreed. "I will. But you must take me riding _soon_, Elladan."

He was on his feet in an instant, a grin gracing his handsome features. "I will, Arwen. I promise. Meet me at the south exit into the gardens."

"All right," she assured him, sweeping her hair behind her ear. Elladan left with a parting smile, closing the door behind him. Standing, Arwen smoothed her skirts and gazed at Elrohir. "Bring the mouse, will you?"

Her brother shook his head and laughed, taking hold of the box on the table beside him.

The plan went accordingly. Arwen and Elrohir met their brother as planned and right away Elladan handed off his burden to his little sister, then with murmured thanks departed for his own fun. Pursing her lips, Arwen lifted the cover from the tray and motioned her remaining sibling to do his part—a task he was only too glad to do. He grabbed the plate and set it on a bench, then opened the box. "Come, my furry little friend," he said, easing the little rodent out by its tail and setting it on the tray.

Arwen quickly replaced the cover, then made her exit from the residence, Elrohir closely in tow behind her. They made their way along the trees, down the pathway that led to where their father inevitably would be reading or composing a letter. When they saw him with his back turned, seated at a table beneath a blossoming tree, Elrohir stopped and hid behind a the shade of a willow while his little sister did her part.

"Ada," she said in a very convincingly sweet voice as she approached. Elrohir chanced a look and saw his father turn with a wan smile, reaching to touch his daughter's face. "I brought this for you." He grinned at her flawless act.

Elrond took the tray and set it on the table, motioning Arwen to sit across from him. She complied, of course, gently nudging the tray towards him very subtly. "Have you eaten, child?"

Arwen bit her bottom lip and nodded, glancing over their father's shoulder. Elrohir made a face and she coughed to hide her sudden smile. His father went back to his writing, having yet to even touch the tray beyond setting it down. It was a trap. Elrohir could sense it a mile off. Still, he couldn't help but wait and see what happened. Picking a small carrot off his father's plate and popping it into his mouth, he leaned against the tree to wait.

The little princess knew to pull this off she would have to press the issue, but had the presence to realize appearing too eager would tip him off. "Maybe I'll have a little something," she decided, looking at the tray expectantly. Elrohir could just picture their father's smile.

He nudged the tray towards Arwen. "Go ahead." Now, that would not be the end of it, he knew. There was still one trick she had that though she was a woman now, would still appear charming to her doting father. Elrohir snorted at the idea of it. If he or Elladan tried what she would inevitably do next it would fail. A quick look showed her poised for her last, devastating attack on their poor father. She made a pouty little face and pointed_. Far be it from Ada to deny her now_, Elrohir thought with a smirk. He took another carrot.

Elrond pulled the tray before him, resting his hand against the handle and lifting slowly. "There's nothing there," he said plainly.

"What?!" Arwen exclaimed, sitting up and peering at the tray. Elrohir leaned around the tree, watching openly now as his father lifted the lid. She looked suitably puzzled, her brow knit and her fists in a clench on the table's surface. He watched his father move his hand beneath the table. Any moment now…any moment. Arwen scratched her cheek, then looked up at Elrond suspiciously and it was then she began to realize she was not alone anymore. Pushing back from the table, she looked down into her lap and gasped. By then their father had his hands folded neatly on the table before him. Arwen picked the mouse up and gave it a pet, sighing as she said in a chiding tone, "Ada."

Elrohir laughed, stepping around the tree and coming to the table. He snatched another carrot and gave his father the plate. Elrond gave him a look as he cleared his correspondence away. "I suppose having one child that did not scheme against me was too much to hope for."

"Scheme against you? You pain me, Ada," Elrohir retorted, sitting and reaching towards his father's plate again. Elrond smacked his fingers away, then picked up the last carrot and handed it to his son.

Elrond lifted an eyebrow as he spread his napkin across his lap. "Yes, well, be that as it may, I am glad for your company. We have things we must talk about." He slid his gaze to Arwen with a gentle expression. He was still so very protective of her. "Would you spare me a kindness and go pour me some water?"

Her expression was unguardedly long-suffering, but she did not show disrespect for his wishes despite her curiosity. All three of them knew this tone, knew there was no use in arguing against it. Something was troubling him and he did not want to burden his youngest with the worry just yet. Elrohir marveled at her unquestioning understanding as she departed from their presence.

Once she was in the house the Lord of Rivendell looked up. "I am concerned about your mother."

**Author: **Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:**  
1 – Muindor – Brother.

**A/N**: Thanks again to everyone that's reviewed!! I hope you continue to enjoy the tale, sad though it is. :X :)


	4. A Little Fun

**Immortal**  
A Little Fun

Legolas was among those who found the wife of Lord Elrond after her ill-fated attack on the way home from Lothlórien. His investigation of the matter lands him into trouble, not to mention painful, haunting memories. (Heavy on Legolas and Elrond plots, non-slash)

_=======_

_"Legolas! Legolas, avo diro!**1**"  
Legolas! Legolas, don't look!_

He awakened with a start, feeling smothered and heavy. Legolas gasped for air as the female voice in his dream faded away. He heard that voice occasionally in his sleep, rarely in his memories. He always pushed it away. This time was no different. Sitting up in the darkness, the Prince of Mirkwood ran his hand along his cheek, curving to rub his temple. His 'friends' had repaid him with a beating after their little discussion concerning just where he was from. Though it was brutal, he had not given in, not betrayed his origins in the cave dwellings of his people in the mountains to the north. The last thing he wanted was for them to have a target to use him against.

It was dark where he was, thrown in a cell that had no bed—just straw scattered about the floor. Looking at the cell door he saw a faint light coming through the small barred window. Legolas leaned against the cool rock wall and rubbed absently at the flesh of his shoulder, right below a blood-moistened slash. It stung against the soft touch of his tattered shirt, but he did not have the energy or will to bare his arm.

He wondered where Lady Celebrían was. A sweep of the cell told him she was not here with him and he worried she had been dragged away for interrogation or just for the fun the orcs would have in tormenting her. The thought filled him with anger, which renewed his energy. Pushing himself up, Legolas ignored the various aches and pains and stumbled through the dark to the door. He remained silent, first studying what little he could see outside. It was no traditional prison. The rocky room was basically round with a few exceptions and looked as though the dark denizens of the caves had simply beaten holes into the walls with their shovels until cells had been fashioned.

The wooden door was crude, but yielded little in the way of leaks. The Elf smoothed his hand down the grain, identifying a sturdy, hard wood that would not break easily. He exhaled and turned his attention to the lock. It was made of metal and without the proper tools, would not be unlatched anytime soon. He crouched, examining it, then glanced around the floor in case any stray wires had been left. No such luck.

A look at the bolts holding the door, however, proved hopeful. He felt rust along the hinges. Caves were damp places, prone to moisture. The hinges were strong, but with the right amount of pressure could come free. He straightened and peered out the window, his eyes landing on a shadow in the dark. The orc sat back in a wooden chair, arms folded and keen eyes open. He was alert and Legolas sighed inwardly. This band was managed by a particularly intelligent leader, disciplined enough not to fall asleep on the job. Escaping would not be easy.

He stepped back, leaning against the wall as he considered his options. He could goad the beast into anger, force him into the cell for a face-to-face confrontation, but it would be dangerous without knowing where Celebrían was. He could call for her, but would the orc punish him for it? He could guess what the Elf was up to, at any rate and be more attentive to watching. They would never be left alone if they appeared to be conspiring. Legolas frowned at the darkness, cursing his limitations. But then it came to him.

Singing might not appear so suspicious.

Legolas scanned his memory for a sad tune, anything that sounded as if he were lamenting, then began to reform the verses in his mind to suit his purposes. He kept his voice low, pitching it just right for Elven ears so it would not be over-loud to their guardian. He began slow, almost as if his words were an afterthought. "Brennil uin imlad, na le lastannen egor cenannen?" He paused for a moment, looking for some sort of reply as well as searching his thoughts for the next line. "Boe isto lín manadh…" he knit his brow, thinking quickly, "…ai…vín tirith thia far…faeg?" Legolas winced and waited.  
_Lady of the valley, be you heard or seen? I need to know your fate…ah…our guard appears quite…mean?_

Apparently the orc did not care for his style, snapping impatiently, "Shut your mouth, Elf, before I stick my sword in you!" Something very hard impacted against the door.

Frowning, Legolas stretched the fingers of his right hand. The cut on his shoulder throbbed. Of course that was the least of his worries, but it did not help. It would be foolish to attempt escape right now. Lady Celebrían could be anywhere, unconscious or even dead. The thought of it brought back that uncomfortable sinking feeling to his abdomen.

The prince paced across his cell, running his eyes over the stone locking him in. He was accustomed to walls like these, for his own home was made within his father's underground fortress in Northern Mirkwood but this was a far cry from being the same. He could feel his freedom stripped of him already, knew his desire for the song of the trees and the light of the stars would weigh him down. The sadness would get to her as well, even before it claimed him. Time was not on their side.

His sharp ears caught a sound behind. It was trying to sneak up on him, walking silently if one could term the footsteps of an orc silent. The uneven, moist breathing of the beast was not masked by any means and just as the creature came to the door, likely peering through the window on the cell door, Legolas said, "Will your leader praise you or rebuke you, I wonder."

The orc snarled and jammed a key into the lock, giving it a hard twist. "For what?"

Despite the situation, Legolas showed no fear as he turned towards the dark creature. He knew what was coming. "For what you are about to do."

A sneer formed across the beast's black face as it approached, dagger drawn. "Don't you worry your pretty head over that, boy. Just gonna have a little fun s'all."

Legolas tensed, preparing himself for the inevitable fight. The creature was eager, very eager to have his taste of blood. It struck out first, slashing with its blade and growling when the Elf dodged fairly easily. The Prince of Mirkwood did not smile in triumph or do anything to goad the beast on, throwing himself into full concentration. The orc thrust out, then leapt towards the Elf in agitation. Legolas threw himself to the side to evade and hit his arm against the wall, increasing his pain. He gasped out, but knew there was no time to lament. Pushing himself away just in time, he saw a clean path for the door and took it.

"Good, Elf," the orc purred, entering the prison slowly. Legolas slid to a halt in front of the exit—a large wooden door with a lock on it. "You just give me a reason to hurt you more. Escape attempts are frowned upon here and there's no way out."

The Prince of Mirkwood turned, hunkering down in preparation for the next round. "So it comes to killing you," he said, keeping his midnight eyes fixed on the orc's hands. "Very well."

His enemy barked a laugh at that, lashing out again. "Yeah, you try, Elf."

Without warning the orc darted for him and won, knocking Legolas to the floor. He wasted no time stabbing downwards indiscriminately, hoping to injure his prey. The prince shoved at the heavy beast on him, extending his hands to block himself from the would-be killing blows that the orc was making. The dagger's edge caught his hand, peeling down the tender flesh of his palm, and Legolas groaned out in pain.

The orc laughed in amusement at this, dragging the bloody blade along his tongue with hungry eyes. "You're gonna end up a meal, boy. Count on it."

Knitting his brow, Legolas shoved hard and won his freedom long enough to stumble to his feet, only to have the creature slam into his legs, knocking him back to the stone floor. He fell hard against his knee, but managed to scramble away from getting pinned again. His foe was growling his frustration, fighting its way up to attack again. The Elf turned on him and kicked before the orc could get up, landing his foot directly in the other's jaw. The dagger went flying.

Falling back, the orc gave an enraged shout as Legolas threw himself towards the fallen blade. His fingers curled around the hilt just as the fell beast behind him took a hold of his ankle, jerking him to his stomach. "You're gonna regret being born," it rasped, dragging the Elf towards his vicious attack.

Legolas rolled to his back and thrust the orc dagger, aiming for the open space directly to the creature's right side. In its haste to conquer, the orc guard did not notice this apparent miscalculation and swiped at his arm, only to direct it into the Elf's true target, his stomach. Legolas watched those fell, glittery eyes widen in realization, then dim as sudden death took hold. The orc gasped, then fell upon him.

Groaning in disgust, the Elf shoved the burden from him and felt around for a set of keys. There were none. His knit his brow, looking around the dark room. The light of the single torch near the exit illuminated the single key in the face of his cell door and he cursed his luck. They had locked the beast in here with him, likely intent on leaving him here until his shift was over. There would be no way out unless someone from the outside unlocked the large exit door.

Legolas retrieved the blade from the dead orc's flesh and got to his feet, then checked each cell for Celebrían. Unsuccessful, Legolas retreated then to his own, knowing there was nothing he could do but wait. He cradled his bloody hand to his chest, feeling its sting acutely now that the adrenaline rush was over. What they were going to do to escape, he could not even fathom right now, but he would not give up.

Leaning against the wall, the Prince of Mirkwood slid down it and hit the floor, resting and conserving his strength. The real fighting had not even begun.

**=======**

**Author: **Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**A/N**: Thanks again for the lovely reviews! I should do romance, eh? It's a interesting thought…I used to do it in other fandoms. Hmm. ;) Anyway, glad you liked the fluffies before…and I hope that singing scene up there wasn't _too_ obnoxious. ;D


	5. Comissioned

**My Immortal**  
Comissioned

=======

Thunder rolled in the distance and the air was moist with the coming storm. The soft curtains moved to the rhythm of a flowing, chilly breeze. Prince Elladan was acutely aware of the eyes on him as he stuffed a dagger into his pack. He did not particularly relish being under such scrutiny at this time. "Not now, pentithen. I have something to do."  
_Pentithin - Little one._

Arwen bit her lip, eyeing her brother seriously. "But you're leaving Imladris. How long will you be gone?" Her blue-eyed gaze was sad.

He stopped packing long enough to mess up her dark tresses, winning a slap in the arm. "Hopefully not long. Ada just wants Elrohir and I to do something. I promise, as soon as I return, I will take you riding into the wilds. If you're good, I may even take you to Bree." Her gaze widened at that prospect, but she was not easily diverted.

"Is it a secret?" she asked, folding her hands delicately before her. "You and Elrohir are the best. Ada only sends you when it's very important."

Her questions made him sigh. Pretty soon they would not be able to protect her at all. He recognized it and knew if he did, their father did. Turning his head to look at her, Elladan stopped his packing. "It may be nothing more than a short trip to visit our grandparents, Arwen. Come here, please."

Instantly on her feet, the princess came to him and he took her hands in his. "What is it, Elladan?"

"You're growing up," he observed, smoothing her hair back. "I want you to do something, Muinthel. Something only a grown up princess could do. Think you can handle it?" Arwen nodded gravely and he gave her a wan smile. "Take care of Ada while we're gone. I know you want to know what's going on, but I do not want you asking him while we are away. You know him. He is protective. Let him be that to you while he can."  
_Muinthel – Sister._

She seemed to understand, but that did not stop her mind from wondering. "Did he see something terrible?" she whispered, her gaze glued to him. Often their father saw things, snippets of the future. It happened indiscriminately, without warning and often foretold things that were scarcely avoidable. Some things he did not see.

Elladan looked away for a moment, letting out a tense breath. Her questions were just of a young lady her age, but he always saw the little Arwen barely two feet tall who called him 'Dan'. He wanted to protect her perhaps as much as their father sometimes. "Honestly, I don't know. He has not said so. He just worries."

Arwen bit her lower lip, looking out the window as a few flower petals breezed in. The rain had begun slowly, misting the curtains and dragging them down. "About Nana?"

That was precisely what he did not want her to linger on, but he would never dream of lying to her. In his view there was nothing to worry about, in any event, so he nodded and batted at her hair. "He only wants to know where she is. Now, Arwen, I forbid you to fall to the same devices. Do not worry. All is well, I promise. You know his ways."

"I know," she agreed, looking up with a soft smile.

Elladan grinned and poked her sides. "He has more human blood that we do. You know that makes him crazier than us."

Laughing, she fended off his tickles and gave him a chiding glare. "Elladan! Be respectful!"

"This from a little princess that tried to feed him a rodent," he scoffed, playfully pushing at her shoulders, trying to knock her off balance. "Elrohir told me you did not drop that part of the plan as I had been lead to believe you would."

Arwen collapsed to the bed and looked up at him with pursed lips until his expression of shock made her giggle. Shaking his head, he grabbed his knapsack and slung it over his shoulder, then collected his quiver and bow. "Elladan," she called as he made for the door to the hall. He turned back to her. "If all is well, why do take so many weapons?"

For a moment he was at a loss, then stuck his tongue out. "Prudence, Ada, prudence. I told you not to worry. Come and wish Elrohir farewell."

Together brother and sister abandoned the bedroom in haste, chasing through the last homely house, laughing and skimming past Elves until they were at the front. The main entrance of the great mansion stood open, revealing the growing deluge outside. That being as it was, Elrond did not leave the entrance hall to see off his sons outside as was customary. The farewell would remain indoors this time.

Elrohir gave Arwen's head a swipe, brushing her hair back as she ran past. The princess drew herself up regally and trotted to their father's left to be welcomed at this side with a pet to her shoulder. Side by side, bantering about Elladan's tardy arrival, the twins stood and waited as Elrond moved to embrace them, accepting his eldest first. "Be swift, my sons," he said in a quiet way, standing back to look at them both.

Elladan smiled confidently, meeting his father's eyes. "As swift as the wind, Ada, we promise. I will convey your love to Nana." Gratefully, Elrond nodded his thanks and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Be careful," he added gravely, giving them both a pointed look. The twins exchanged glances, grinning at one another. Elrond withheld a longsuffering sigh. "I am serious."

Elrohir pushed Elladan out of his way and wrapped his father into a hug, saying in his ear, "I will keep him out of trouble."

Their father grunted at that, stepping back with an upraised eyebrow. "Indeed? The blind leading the blind, then?" When Elrohir made a face he made up for his jest with a warm smile. "Namarie, my sons."

"Namarie, Ada," they replied together.

A little cough from behind Elrond signified that Arwen would not let herself be forgotten. Right away the twins embraced her, teasing her with tickles and pokes to make her feel better about this so sudden business. But too soon the time came for them to leave. Before they stepped out into the rain, the elder brother gave her a knowing glance and she slipped her hand into their father's, watching them leave.

Winds and rain greeted them as they abandoned the warmth of their home and claimed their horses, setting out to the task at hand. Finding their mother. Mounting, Elrohir looked with squinted eyes into the sky. "This is only going to get worse, you know?"

Already atop his steed, Elladan shrugged. "What does that matter?"

His younger brother grunted. "Only you would not see being drenched as an irritant."

The elder rolled his eyes as they nudged their horses on towards the main gate. "Whoa to the Elf that melts away beneath the fierce pummel of a cruel spring shower," he retorted smartly. "What is really bothering you?"

"I am certain I know not of what you speak, Muindor." Elrohir pushed his dark hair out of his face as the wind swept some of the damp strands before his vision. They approached the gate, nodding to a guard entering the city.

Once they were well down the road, out of earshot, Elladan threw his twin a deciphering look. "Complaining about my lateness, complaining about the rain. Next you'll be ordering me to straighten my room."

Elrohir snorted, his gaze lost ahead of them. "Hardly. I never ask a man to perform beyond his capabilities."

The elder shrugged, then sighed. "Be that as it may, you are bothered. Who would you tell what troubles you except me?"

"Oh, all right," Elrohir agreed tartly, awarding his brother's shoulder a rough shove. "It is this business with Nana. She has been away a long time."

"She visits with Edwenaneth." He was unwilling to accept anything other than the obvious. Their mother had long been away from her parents. Why should she not want to stay long now that she had returned to her home?  
_Edwenaneth – Grandmother. (Second-Mother)_

Elrohir frowned at his twin. "_Edwenaneth_ says Nana left her company already. Ada spoke with her through Vilya. Why do you think he sends us?"__

Still, Elladan stubbornly refused to think the worst, scoffing, "She is merely wrapped up in the Golden Wood, bidding her home farewell."

For a long moment his younger brother fixed him with a hard stare, then sighed, giving in. "Perhaps you are right."

**=======**

**Author: **Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:**  
1 – Pentithen. – Little one.   
2 – Muinthel. – Sister.  
3 – Edwenaneth. – Grandmother (Second-Mother)

**A/N**: Thanks again for the reviews! Another round of fluffies, in a more serious light. :O ;) More Legolas and Celebrían coming up next!


	6. Fury

**My Immortal**  
Fury

=======

An indeterminate amount of time passed, countless hours that lulled Legolas into a comfortable rest that healed his abused body, but one would have to be deaf to miss the voluminous lumbering of orcs. Legolas came into awareness when a dark laugh passed through the shadows to his ears. "Looks like the Elf had himself a good time. I warn you, boy, we have your companion out here. Make a false move and she's dead."

Pulling himself to a standing position and clutching the dagger firmly, Legolas called, "Celebrían, are you well?"

She gave no reply, but the orc did. "She's out." His grip on the dagger tightened until a black form covered the open doorway to his cell. Goralûk studied him with intent eyes. "Give up the weapon or watch me cut her into tiny pieces."

Legolas was half-tempted to fling the blade at him in a vicious way, but knew it would gain him nothing but trouble. He tossed it down at the orc's feet, then waited for whatever would come next. Goralûk laughed as he scooped the dagger up and stepped aside. The light made Lady Celebrían's pale dress seem to glow as they hurled her in. She tumbled to the floor at his feet without crying out or moving.

Ignoring his audience, Legolas knelt and looked over the Lady of Imladris carefully, trying to ascertain the extent of her injuries. "Brennil nîn?" he whispered gently, turning her over. Her face was dark with blood and markings. Something other than wisdom took over his mind. The Prince of Mirkwood tilted his head up, glaring in open hatred of their captors. "Why?"  
_My Lady._

Goralûk cocked his head, studying the Elf. He seemed amused by the prince's sudden fire. "It is my nature." He took a step towards the two of them, his expression a mask of danger intent and a deep, insatiable hunger. "Blood and pain is my nature. And ah, how sweet she was." A rumbling, insinuating laugh filled Legolas with deep anger.

The Elf clenched his jaw and laid his burden back down upon the cold floor. "Leave her alone," he hissed, feeling dangerous himself. "Satisfy your need for blood with a warrior, not a defenseless woman."

His enemy did not back down, would not have even had Legolas threatened with weapons. This beast would be inevitably greedy as all the servants of Sauron were, but he would not let it save his life if it meant accepting defeat. He was a dangerous one. "I will have satisfaction," he rasped low, flitting those glittering eyes over the Elf before him. "And I see no need to free anyone. This is where the both of you will make your graves." The deadly certainty in his voice was unwavering and confident.

"The only grave I intend to make is yours," Legolas growled back in retort, readying himself to fight.

Goralûk stared back, and then whipped his hand out without warning, snaring the prince's hair. He jerked roughly, dragging the Elf towards him. Trying to ignore the pain, Legolas gripped the orc's leather cuirass, pulling, struggling, doing anything to throw the monster off balance.

The orc only laughed, his dirty fingers tangling the golden strands, spinning them tighter and tighter as he forced the prince out of his cell into the open. He jerked back, throwing Legolas into an arch that brought him to his knees, then threw him down to the stone floor. When he straightened and looked up, he saw three more had joined the fray, surrounding him. "This is how you fight?" he asked incredulously, turning his heated gaze on their leader. "You alone cannot subdue even one Elf? You need help to do it?"

Smiling, Goralûk kicked dust at him. "This isn't about subduing. This is about causing you pain and that I _will_ share with my boys, just like I did with her." He growled, drawing a dagger. "You like to fight, Elf?"

Maneuvering to his feet, remaining crouched, Legolas looked for any window from which to break free the deadly circle. Their shining eyes were keen on him, focused and waiting for the start to their fun. He could see no immediate route of escape. "I like to fight," he answered, glaring up steadily, "if only to keep monsters like you from walking the earth!"

One of the others snarled, kicking with a heavy boot, shoving the Elf forward. Legolas fell onto his hands hard with a groan, but saw a chance. He used their amused distraction to propel himself into Goralûk, shoving him down. The surprised orc gave an angry shout, struggling viciously to regain the power he had over the Elf. This prompted the others, whose collective growls were like a pack of hungry wolves converging on him. Legolas sent his fist flying into Goralûk's jaw before feeling hands on his shoulders, jerking him away.

Their fingers were rough, claws sinking into his tender skin without care for whatever wounds he bore. They ripped him off their leader and threw him across the room. A sharp, echoing thud filled the dark room as he slammed back against a wooden cell door. He let out a hard breath, immediately turning his concentration back to the battle at hand. One of them was closing on him with a drawn blade. He chose to exploit that one's confidence first.

Legolas pushed himself off the door, standing ready until the black creature crept forward with a moist laugh. It thrust the dagger forward in an attempt to catch the Elf in the stomach. He easily dodged the blow and used his swiftness to reach for the hilt. The orc growled as he turned the blade back towards the wielder, forcing it dangerously close to its stomach.

For a long moment there was a power struggle; the blade switching targets back and forth more than once. His foe had the definitive advantage in strength, but Legolas was nimble. He let up on the blade, allowing it to come near to hitting him, then twisted out of the way. The orc had assumed himself victorious too soon. His arm was stretched stiffly, his elbow locked, diminishing his reflexes enough that the Elf could get a hold of his wrist and hold it while he slammed his free hand into the orc's elbow, straining it in the wrong direction. It howled and dropped the blade instinctively.

Legolas let him go, ducking as the monster swung its arm out, grasping the blade as he did so. When he straightened he saw he had a very angry party of orcs on his hands. Goralûk fingered a wooden club that had frayed sides and splinters sticking out, watching and waiting. There was a quiet bloodlust in his eyes that would not be denied.

Feral growls filtered through the air and glittering eyes in the dim reminded him of the perils of his home. The forests of Mirkwood were thick and filled with dangers that only multiplied by night. He was accustomed to fighting creatures that cared only for the kill, but the reality always hit him with the same dread and the same anger. These things should not happen.

"Rattled, boy?" Goralûk growled, advancing with the others. "You ever fight an orc?"

Holding the knife firmly, Legolas growled, "I have fought and _killed_ many of your kind, beast." He shifted his gaze between them, waiting for the initiative move. "Four more will not add greatly to my count."

The laughter was dry, condescending. Sneering, he motioned his lackeys forth and they obeyed, all three closing in around Legolas. One thrust his dagger and he threw himself out of the way, into one of the others, knocking it down to the group. He had scarce too little an opportunity, so he made his move and plunged the blade in his hand down into the throat. A deep cry turned into a gurgle and dark blood spurted from the wound, sprinkling in thick drops onto the Elf's hand.

He grasped the hilt, tearing it from his enemy's flesh, but was not fast enough to prevent the blow to his shoulder. With great force his attacker slammed his foot against him, knocking him completely off his kill. His back hit the cold floor, knocking the wind out of him. The orc kicked his wrist away from the fallen dagger, then bent down and reclaimed it, handing it off to its rightful owner.

Then it lifted a mace on him, sending it down full force. Legolas ignored his pain and rolled out of the way just in time to save his life. They had learned, though, and instead of hefting its mace back up, the fiend abandoned it for the moment and snagged the prince's tunic, jerking him to his feet. It pushed him back into the wall, then backhanded him viciously.

By the time the stars cleared from his vision, the mace had found its owner once again. The orc grinned and grabbed his wrist, pinning it to the stone wall as his companion mirrored on the other side. Legolas jerked at his captors like a caged animal, but could not break free. Goralûk stepped before him, holding his club. "Are you afraid, Elf?"

Breathing hard, staring intently without fear or worry, Legolas hissed, "Not afraid, orc. Do as you will. I will endure."

Nodding as though he doubted that statement, Goralûk lifted his club. He hit right where he knew it would hurt, sending the rough edges and sharp splinters into the gash on the Elf's shoulder. Legolas bit his lip, but could not withhold a groan of pain. It seared his abused flesh like a fire. His breathing came hard and without his conscious thought his eyes were tightly closed. He knew he could not remain this way, still as the pain assailed him. He had to fight, had to take any chance as it came to try and defeat his enemy, but the hold they had on him was firm.

Goralûk slammed the wooden implement into him again, this time going for his stomach. The Elf tried to double over, but they restrained him, putting hands on his shoulders. He bit his lip against the pain of a hand on his injury, drawing his head up so he could meet the orc's triumphant look. The monster laughed at that and drew his fist back, then let it fly into his captive's jaw.

His head snapped back and a dull headache began. Legolas spit blood from his lip, then looked up again, anger firing his strength. He jerked away from the orcs again, this time succeeding enough that he could dive into Goralûk. He curled his fingers and scratched down the beast's face, causing him to growl in rage. The orc shoved him away, screaming, "Hold him, you scum!" Impulsively, he smashed the club against the prince's head.

Immediately Legolas lost his grasp on what was going on, darkness overtaking his vision for a moment. He dimly felt himself being dragged to his feet, felt hands pulling at his shirt until the chill of the dungeon sailed over his flesh like a ghostly caress. He groaned as they shoved him against the wall again, this time face first. With a snarl Goralûk sent his club into the Elf's back and that woke him out of his momentary darkness. Legolas arched and yelled out, then was shoved back against the wall again. "You seem to enjoy defiance," the leader of the orcs purred, hitting him again. "Defy me, Elf! Show me what makes you so blessed!" He hit again.

Legolas did not speak, did not give in to the orc's obvious want of more banter. He was too focused on the pain assaulting his body. The attack was merciless and painful, and soon he lost track of what they were doing until finally he was allowed to fall to his knees. Goralûk grasped his head, running his finger through his braids until they were undone, the ties split and fluttering to the floor.

Hands swept across his flesh and hungry growls and lapping gave him the sickening truth that they were consuming his blood. "Now you see how your end will come about," Goralûk sneered, standing above him. He grabbed a mass of sweat-moistened, blood-smeared golden hair and dragged Legolas back to his cell, throwing him in. "You have no name."

The cell door slammed shut and was locked. Hovering on his hands and knees, Legolas tried to clear the fog over his mind, but found weariness overtaking him quickly. The Prince of Mirkwood glanced at Lady Celebrían with soft, regretful eyes, then collapsed and gave in.

=======

**Author: **Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:**  
1 – Brennil nîn? – My Lady?

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews again! RE: Romance, not between Legolas and Celebrían, that's for sure. ;) I like to maintain a certain plausibility and while that would be challenging…it's not one I think I'd care to try just now. ;) Anyway, yeah…there is a sad tale behind Leggy's dream, which I'll flesh out chapter by chapter. :) Hope you enjoy the angst!


	7. Opening Floodgates

**My Immortal**  
Opening Floodgates

=======

_"Law!" When the golden-haired boy screamed and burst from the bushes five startled goblins turned, fixing dangerous, amused gazes on their faces. He was too young to conceive of just how perilous his abandoning his hiding spot made his situation. All he knew was anger and pain. The form on the grass was at the forefront of his thoughts. "Nuitho, delu levain!"  
_No! Stop, fell beasts!

_From the center of the circle of creatures a white hand raised as if to reach out to him. He took a step to go to her, but knew better when one of the hungry monsters growled at him. "Noro!" she cried, unable to get her voice above a whisper, her throat hoarse from her screaming. "Noro si!"  
_Run! Run now!

_One of the goblins laughed from deep within its chest, a terrible sound that made the boy shiver. "Looks like we got more than we bargained for. Get him, boys!"_

_The young Elf-child's luminous dark eyes filled with tears. He knew to stay would mean something terrible, but he did not want to leave her here. The little prince just didn't know what to do until the much larger forms began after him. "Noro!" she managed to yell at him, her hand falling to the ground limply afterwards._

_In agony he took off in the opposite direction, shoving branches out of his way, stumbling over rocks and fallen tree branches. He ran heedlessly, not knowing where to go or who to call out to. They wandered too far from their home and the beasts were running so very fast. He could hear their feet pounding into the earth and their growls chasing after him relentlessly behind. It filled him with fear._

_"Run, little brat!" one of the creatures howled at him, gaining on him quickly. Twigs broke in the grass of his wake. Though the little Elf did not speak Westron very well, he knew he was being teased._

_He fell. In his haste he did not afford himself the time to seek solid footing, so his sharp eyes missed a large stick that had been covered over with mud. It snagged his foot and he collapsed with a hard thud that sent a painful jolt up his little body. But he did not stop to cry. Clawing at the dirt beneath him, he pulled himself up and sprinted on, headlong into one of the goblins that had taken his fall as a chance to get ahead. He hit the creature's front and fell back into the hands of another, who jerked him by his tunic. "Valiant little fighter," it grunted, pulling out a dagger._

_Looking up as the one before him took out his own blade, the boy waited in silence, too afraid to cry. He pulled away once and was hit viciously for it. His face turned with the force of the slap and that did bring moisture to his eyes. When he looked back the creature laughed at him and made ready to plunge the dagger down._

_A hiss filled the air; followed by a distinctive 'thwack' and the goblin that would have been his ending fell down with wide eyes. Before it hit the ground another arrow flew into the face of the one clutching his shirt. He fell back with it, then growling out, yanked himself away and ran again. This time he ran into the arms of his father and that drew the most tears of all._

_Kneeling and surrounding the child with his arms, King Thranduil whispered, "Sîdh, Legolas. Na naneth lín nedh taur?"  
_Peace, Legolas. Is your mother in the forest?

_Clinging to his father as the horrible sounds of her screams washed over him again, Legolas nodded softly and looked over his arm at the tree, trying to blot out what he had seen. The forest seemed so quiet now. "Fuion ti, Adar. Fuion ti."  
_I hate them, Father. I hate them.

_His father said nothing, but those arms around the little prince tightened when footsteps approached and a soft voice said, "Your Majesty, I bear terrible news. The Queen, Sir, has been slain. Nothing can be done."_

"Naneth!" His chest felt heavy, smothering him nearly as he awakened with a start back into the here and now. When Legolas opened his eyes they were greeted by the soft glow of a torch bleeding in from beyond the cell door. It was enough to cast faint illumination upon the golden hair of the woman above him and for a blessed moment he felt reality crumble into an irrational hope.

Her voice dashed it and brought him back. "You were dreaming, Legolas. Are you all right?"

His dark eyes moistened uncontrollably, though he knit his brow and tried to withhold any further display. "I am well." Unstoppably his voice was strained. It was not exactly true, his reply. His body felt ravaged, his emotions taken from the secret spot deep within that he had not visited in many years. For so long he had banished that memory and now here it was, replayed before his mind's eye in vivid detail.

A ripping sound pulled him away from his thoughts. Lady Celebrían looked down through soft, weary eyes at the strip of fabric she had just torn from her skirt. Legolas shook his head, sitting up with her help. Upon rising he noticed how tired she looked, how pale. Her dress was ripped down the center, as if someone had gripped at the neck and pulled it apart. His mind shuddered back from the implications of what could have occurred to cause that. He reached for the cloth, not wanting to be a burden to the Lady of Imladris. "I can…"

"No!" Her voice was hard, desperate as she ignored his reaching hand and wrapped the strip around his wounded shoulder to stop the bleeding. He groaned at the sting, closing his eyes and setting his jaw. When she spoke again her tone had somewhat lessened. He recognized this. She was afraid, hopeless, looking for something to take her away from what inevitably whatever had occurred while he had been unconscious. "What were you dreaming of?"

Legolas averted his eyes from hers, feeling the familiar barrier between the words and his mouth. Maybe it was her need or maybe it was his, but without knowing why, he broke through it this time and admitted what was on his heart. "My mother."

Celebrían tied the cloth off and looked him over, pressing gently, asking where he hurt. It had been so long since he had felt anything like this; he did not know how to react to such a tender touch. It opened up a well of longing in him that had been sealed off ever since his mother had been ripped from him. He could almost recall, listening to the Lady's voice. "I know she is gone, but I never heard what befell her."

Her hand met his bare arm and he looked down, noticing the little cuts, slash marks from a blade, running along her fingers. Her form shivered and her blue eyes were shaded. Gently he removed her touch from his flesh and breathed, "Lady, it is I that should be caring for you." Lady Celebrían shook her head, moving her wrist out of his grasp. Sighing, he leaned back on his hands, his back aching and stinging from the beating he had endured. The silence was uncomfortable, neither of them bearing any words of comfort, so he continued from her last statement. "My father doesn't speak of it. She was taken from us when I was very small and killed by the servants of the Dark Lord."

Perhaps it wasn't wise of him to bring it up. Too closely it reflected what might happen to her children. He saw that much in her gaze. "Such evil in this world. Indeed I am sorry to know this." Her sorrowed face filled him with grief, for it reflected back to him all that held deep inside. "Do you recall her?" she asked softly.

Legolas sighed and shook his head. "Alas, no. Such a short time she was with me, Lady. I only remember her face…" screams filled his mind, prompting him to add in a lower tone, "and her voice."

"You are all right, though?" Celebrían said after a moment's consideration. Her blue eyes seemed to beg him to lie if he had to and he turned his gaze downward. "You miss her, but you have done well?"

On the surface her question was for him, but he knew deep within she was asking whether or not he thought her children would endure her death, for she had accepted it, there was no mistaking that. He didn't know what else he could say except, "I have done well." He looked up from the stone floor, taking in her sallow visage again. "I miss her, but I endure."

The Lady of Rivendell gave him a pale look of sympathy, and then lowered herself to the hard floor. _So exhausted she must be_, he reflected sadly. In an attempt to comfort her he asked gently, "My Lady, are you all right? Is there anything I can do?"

Her eyes were half-lidded, glassy as she replied in a low tone, "Penneth, there is nothing you can do now." She held up her arm and he saw she had an enflamed red cut marring her milky flesh. "I have been poisoned." The skin around the wound was a very angry red and swelling despite the rapid healing Elves were gifted with. In her eyes he saw the acceptance of that wound, too. The acceptance of what it would ultimately lead to. It made a swell of rage rise up within him, but for her sake he remained silent.  
_Young one._

"I am sorry," was all he knew to say.

Lady Celebrían offered him a soft smile in thanks and closed her eyes. His gaze moved to the door as two orcs conversed in the black speech, snarling with cruel amusement. In his mind he entertained dark, sad thoughts of her sons, his friends. He could not allow her to die, not if he could do anything imaginable to stop it.

=======

**Author: **Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:**  
1 – Law! – No!  
2 – Nuitho, delu levain! – Stop, fell beasts!  
3 – Noro! Noro si! – Run! Run now!  
4 - Sîdh, Legolas. Na naneth lín nedh taur? – Peace, Legolas. Is your mother in the forest?  
5 - Fuion ti, Adar. Fuion ti. – I hate them, Father. I hate them.  
6 – Penneth. – Young one.

**A/N**: Thank you all again for the reviews! I hope you continue to enjoy this!

Uineniel - well, the mail thing was to test and see if it got more responses. I have a friend that emails past reviewers and gets 500 reviews for her stories, so I wanted to see if I could manage the same. As it is, I cannot. lasigh But then, she has time to go read every single story on fanfiction.net and review it, where I do not...so perhaps I'm only reaping what I'm able to sow, so to speak. ;) Ff.net is so huge that stories get lost in the tumble...I'm very uncertain about my own so called talents and yes, we should be writing for our own pleasure first, but you know...when you see someone else get review after review and you don't, you wonder if you just plain suck. ;)

But thankfully I have all my lovely friends here that have reviewed, saying I don't...and I've noticed that 500 review stories are not in the majority, so I'm doing about average I guess. So I apologise for ruffled feathers as far as emails go, I've probably screwed myself out of reviews that way, people seeing my name and cursing it, but I'm glad you stopped by and I thank you for being kind enough to leave such nice reviews as well! Lol...and yeah, I'm not that hopeless. ;) When I stray from canon so obviously in my AU's, I try to have plausible reasons.


	8. Before the Storm

**My Immortal**  
Before The Storm

=======

It had rained the day and the night through, leaving behind mud and saturation. The trees here did not whisper of the return of the Lady of Imladris. Her passage into the east could be remembered by nature fondly, but if she had tried to come back she had not made it within the woods before the High Pass. Leaning against a tree, watching his older brother drink from a water skin, Elrohir said, "It is going to rain again. Soon, too."

Elladan shrugged and remained seated upon the log he had claimed as his own. "You fixate on the weather. I find your habit irritating."

"I am only thinking of Naneth," the younger shot back, examining his fingers absently. He sighed and looked around at the wet brush. "Does it not bother you, the thought of her being lost? Storms change the land with such heavy rainfall. Tracks will be not as easily found."

Standing up and fastening the water skin to his horse's saddle, the elder prince retorted firmly, "I am not worried, for I know she endures. If she had passed to Mandos I would have known."

Elrohir nodded quickly. "Strange that you would have such an assurance and I would not."

Elladan eyed him with a stubborn expression. "Think as you will. I _know_ I would have known. Nothing you say can change that." He pet his steed softly, not bringing his eyes off the shiny black mane. His tone lowered as he continued. "Why is that so unfathomable? You are so intent on believing the worst. Why?"

His twin sighed and ran his hands back through his dark hair. He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of troublesome thoughts. "It is not for want of it, I assure you. Never have we been faced with this, Elladan. We are blessed by having our mother and our father with us, and our little sister. I…I fear what could happen if we lost that."

"As do I, Muindor, but I do not dwell on it." Elladan approached his brother, putting his hand to his shoulder, seeing he was not comforted. "I know you are the more careful of the two of us, but never have I known you to be so troubled. Will you not tell me why? You are not one to look for the worst to happen."

His brother shook his head, laying his hand on Elladan's wrist and looking out across the wet road. "It is a thing I do not wish to say."

The elder's gaze became graver. "Then you are being unfair if you expect me to understand your fears and accept them. Tell me and have it off your chest." He had never seen his younger brother quite so rattled before and it filled him with unease of his own. They shared everything and he could not see why Elrohir was so reluctant now. They knew things of one another that no one else knew.

Looking pained and hesitant, Elrohir met his eyes with naked fear in his eyes. It was not terror, but a quiet thing as if he had born it for a long time and just now allowed it to surface. Giving his brother's arm a squeeze, he nodded, saying, "I will tell you, though you may wish I had not, for it may cause you unneeded doubt." He leaned his head back against the bark of the great tree they stood under, looking off as the thunder returned in the distance. "I believe I had a vision when I was but a child. It was not a happy one, Muindor."

Elladan knit his brow. "A vision? Does Ada know?"

Giving a wan, sorry smile, Elrohir shook his head. "I never told him, so badly it frightened me. And eventually I forgot anyway. Even if I thought of it, I deemed it nothing more than a dream. Now I am afraid I was wrong."

"What did you see?" Elladan pressed, swallowing back his growing disquiet.

His twin took a deep breath, his face sad and reflective. "I saw Ada. His eyes were wet with tears. 'Teli, ionath nin,' he said to you and I, leading us into his study. He told us Nana could not remain with us. He sounded devastated. I was so upset that the vision fled me before I could learn all that it meant. Now do you see why I fear?" Elrohir brushed back his hair, a gentle gesture that ignited a fire in the elder twin as he concluded, "What if it was a warning? What if we are going to lose her to Mandos?"  
_Come, my sons._

Taking his brother by the arm, Elladan gave a sharp tug, startling him. "Do not say such things!" he hissed, suddenly angry. "It was a dream! Just a dream! There is no reason to believe otherwise, for there is not a wound that a sword could deliver that our father could not heal."

"There are some," Elrohir said ominously, pushing his brother away with a frown. "You pressed me for the truth of my feelings. I warned you it would cause doubt."

"Understand one thing, Elrohir, I do _not_ _doubt_ she will endure," Elladan stated firmly, turning his glare on the grass beneath his feet. "I do not doubt."

The other's sigh made him feel him guilty, which was only increased when Elrohir came back to him, saying, "I am sorry, Elladan. I know you and Nana have a special bond. I should have used wisdom and remained silent. I do not want to believe those things I told you, but when I think on them my heart laments." Putting his hand to his brother's shoulder, he urged playfully, "Come, Muindor, you are my favorite brother and I would not have us quarreling."

"Favorite brother," Elladan scoffed, giving in. He pushed Elrohir's hand off him, the reached for his head, messing up his brother's hair. "I would say the same, but Arwen is more of a brother than you will ever be."

His brother sighed and shoved him on towards his mount. "One day you will say one insult too many and I will drag you in a public display at our home into the courtyard and give you the whipping of your life. Get on your horse."

Doing just that, Elladan mounted with a dubious grunt. In an exaggeratedly bored tone he retorted, "Your threat leaves intense fear in my heart."

He was aware of eyes on him, stalking his every movement as if he were a mere rabbit in a field. Folding his arms and taking a tentative step, he listened with keen ears, waiting for the inevitable attack. It would come. It always did, without fail and without mercy. Biting his bottom lip, the Elf prepared for what was to come, for he could almost sense the anticipation of the one stalking him.

There was a telltale footstep aimed in his direction. He tensed, not bothering to turn, resigned to his inexorable fate. She was relentless.

Her footsteps were becoming more trained, silent and pretty soon he would no longer be able to prepare himself for these little moments in life. Even still, however, he did catch the faint pitter-patter of tiptoeing behind him. Smiling, Elrond decided to give Arwen this one. He felt owed it to her after the mouse incident. Inhaling the fresh air and running his age-old wise gray eyes over the flowering gardens of his home, he leaned against a pillar and pretended that for all of Middle-Earth he believed he was completely and utterly alone.

Despite all of that when her hand came against his shoulder in a soft pet, her voice very smooth as she greeted, "Ada," Elrond gave a genuine start. He had not expected that.

Turning, he viewed his daughter and thought her expression a little too cheerful, a little too schooled. Raising an eyebrow, he reached behind him, feeling along his robe, mindful of her smirk. "What have you done to me, Arwen?"

Arwen bat her eyelashes very innocently. "Why, Ada, what makes you believe I have done anything to you?"

Elrond pursed his lips, turning his head and trying to view his shoulder. When he turned a circle his princess laughed at him. "What makes me believe that? Centuries of raising your brothers for one thing. Other past incidents of this nature for another. What did you put on me?"

Her blue eyes widened and her pink lips pouted at him for his accusation. "I did not do anything to you, Ada, except try to greet you. Would you rather I left you alone?"

"Of course not," he sighed, abandoning his back, now truly reconciled to the fact that either whatever she had done would fall off or that someone would notice and smirk, then hopefully remove it for him. Running his fingers through her hair, looking for the truth in her eyes, he added gently, "I suppose I will believe you. This time. Do not abuse my trust."

Arwen shook her head with a grave expression. "Of course not, Ada. Your robe is safe from harm." Her smile returned as she watched him and for a moment he reconsidered her claim, but if she had gotten the best of him this time, she deserved it, he supposed. His children were very fond playing these affectionate games and he was not always able to stay one step ahead. Besides, it was love that made them do these terrible things to him. That he knew. She leaned into his hand as he smoothed her hair from her face. "Do you think Elladan and Elrohir will be long?" she asked him in a more serious tone.

He had no answer that would satisfy either her. "I hope not." She looked so much like her mother sometimes.

"Did you see something, Ada? Something bad?"

Elrond had foreseen many things, like the fall of Gil-Galad just moments before it had happened. He had tried to run the battlefield to find his friend and King, but he had been too late. He had foreseen wars, pillages, even the birth of the child before him, but he could not fathom where his wife was. Perhaps that was a blessing for such a question as this. It was not his want to tell his daughter anything that would cause her pain. "No, I did not see anything. "

Arwen frowned and looked out across the wet gardens. Another presence came into theirs and Elrond looked up into the face of Erestor, who placed his hand on his breast and bowed. "My Lord Elrond, how do you fare this eve?"

Exhaling, the Lord of Rivendell nodded softly. "I am well. And you, old friend?"

Erestor's smile was wan, but encouraging. "I am well enough. I have things I need to discuss with you in private a little bit later." He offered Arwen a glance, smiling in greeting. "My Lady, you are looking well."

She bowed her head respectfully. "As do you, Lord Erestor. So, you have words for my father?"

"Indeed, my Lady," he replied solemnly, meeting the gaze of his lord. "At your convenience, Elrond."

Elrond pushed himself off the column. "Of course. I am at your disposal, Erestor."

The advisor gave the princess another look, a gentle expression crossing his usually stern features. "It is nothing that cannot wait until after dinner if you need time."

It was not commonly known that Celebrían was missing, but those that did know were very patient, very kind and Elrond appreciated every bit of it. Reflecting, he decided a nice dinner between father and daughter would be good for both of them. "Very well," he replied, watching for a moment as Arwen toyed with one of her curls absently. He offered Erestor a nod of thanks, then stopped him from leaving as he made for the hall again. "Ai, Erestor, I have a most serious question to ask you."

The advisor raised his eyebrow. "Yes, my Lord?"

Elrond turned around, peering over his shoulder. "Is there anything on my back?" Arwen rolled her eyes at him.

Erestor, who had glanced at the princess with him, smiled cunningly. "Not a thing."

Satisfied, the Lord of Rivendell nodded, then it occurred to him as Erestor walked away. "What about my hair? Was there anything in that?"

With distinctive amusement the advisor shook his head, laughing. "Relax, my Lord."

Elrond sighed.

=======

**Author: **Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:**  
1 – Teli, ionath nin. – Come, my sons.

**A/N**: Thankie, thankie all!! sniffle Means a bunch! Hope you continue to enjoy! hands out chocolate covered Elves Dha, I know I'm late in catching up with yours, a thing I will rememdy tonight, sorry! hands you extra chocolate Elf ;)


	9. Driven

**My Immortal**  
Driven

=======

Unseen, moving as silently as shadows, both Elladan and his twin made it over the High Pass without having any encounters with the black beasts of Sauron. This disappointed both, who had grown more restless as the days had passed. Not a sound had marked their passage, not a whisper of either nature or darkness. It was entirely too quiet, in fact, which made their quest even slower for the caution they used.

Now coming down from the cold and wet pass, both of them entered into the warmth below quietly, eyes and ears scanning their surroundings for anything unusual. Indeed, the silence was just that. No birds sang in the trees, no furry foragers could be seen gathering acorns. Elrohir looked to Elladan and nodded his brother off the main path and into the forest. "Do you feel it, Muindor?" he whispered, motioning around them.

Elladan nodded gravely. "Anger and fear. The trees whisper of recent woe." He urged his brother deeper along the base of the Misty Mountains.

"Indeed," Elrohir agreed, scanning the trees. "Nature here has been corrupted. I dread to…" He stopped and froze, listening intently, having heard a noise. Then, before he could prepare himself for anything, he watched a hand cover his brother's mouth. In an instant his bow was drawn and an arrow notched and aimed over Elladan's shoulder. His ears told him their assailant was no more than one. "Leave my brother, you fell…Rumil?" He lowered his bow, glowering at the smirking Lórien Elf.

Elladan pulled himself from Rumil's arms and whipped around with a frown. "Would you care to explain yourself?"

Coming into the open, the Lórien Elf shrugged. "What is to explain? I chanced stealth with you and won, Prince of Rivendell." There was a good-natured smile upon his face, but also a certain gravity hidden within those shining blue eyes. "I was sent here by my Lord and Lady to find their daughter, your mother. Haldir went to scout the forests of Mirkwood, but alas I think the trail ends here and his help is sorely missed. You come at a fortunate time."

The twins exchanged glances, then Elladan spoke up. "The trees beyond the pass speak nothing of our mother. What has my grandparents said of this?"

"They have seen nothing," the silvery-haired Elf replied gently. "My Lady fears this is an unalterable event, for their sight of their daughter is blocked."

"As is our father's."

Rumil looked off into the trees, words on his tongue held back yet displayed by his expression. He had something on his mind and the twins urged him to speak it. With a sigh, the Lothlórien Elf relented. "I confess this quest did yield one find apart from tracks. Haldir and I found Lady Celebrían's attendants. They were slaughtered and left in the open."

"Our mother?" Elladan demanded, eyes wide. Both brothers visibly paled at the prospect.

The Marchwarden shook his head. The answer was an uncertain one, perhaps a blessing for the missing Lady, perhaps a curse. "She was not there. We found nothing but a shoe, which is in my brother's possession. This is the handiwork of orcs." Stretching forth a hand, he pointed south of the pass. "There is a den in the Misty Mountains. I found the opening and slipped away with the intent of hiding up in the pass until my brother came, knowing I could not go alone in there. It is my thought that she is there."

The eldest twin took a breath, his gray eyes fixed in the direction Rumil had pointed out. In a tone of deadly purpose and unchangeable resolve he said only one thing. "Let's go."

=======

He awoke to screaming which transported the Prince of Mirkwood back a few thousand years. His chest constricted holding the dank, musty air he had been struggling to breathe in for the past few days. In his mind he saw his mother being tormented, screaming her pain until she could scream no more. But this was not his past. This was not his pain. Aware of the present, Legolas pushed himself up from the hard, chilly floor and raced to his feet. A quick sweep of the cell proved to him what his heart had not wanted to believe. It was Lady Celebrían who cried out.

At the cell door he peered out the barred window though he knew what he would see then would grieve him. Beneath the illumination of one torch there were two dark beasts above the prone form of the Lady of Imladris. She was held against one, her arms gripped by strong hands that knew no mercy. Beside her sat the other, his head cocked in curiosity. Her skirt was high on her thighs and the monster's hand was invisible beneath the folds. She tried to move away and he drew a dagger, waving it in warning before her face. Outraged, feeling helpless, Legolas slammed his hands against the cell door and shouted, "Leave her alone!"

Rasping deep in his throat a hungry sound, the one with the blade hissed, "Come out here and force me, Elfling!"

The orc holding Celebrían jerked her back against him, digging his fingers into her arms. "Ignore him. I want another turn with her."

Grunting, the blade wielder took his dagger, brushing her skirt further up her legs. With an evil light in his eyes, he jerked the sharp edge down her thigh and a stream of red followed. Celebrían squirmed and whimpered at the sharp sting. "Daro!" she cried, weakly kicking out at her assailant. A blow to the face rewarded her attempt at retribution.

Lifting the dagger the one that cut her ran his tongue down the blade, and then spat the blood onto her dress. "Never did enjoy Elf meat. Too delicate. I say you should die soon, Elf witch!"

"Such a test of strength you think you display!" Legolas sneered, pulling at the door fruitlessly. He stopped and glared through the bars. "But I say you only show your weakness in attacking one who is unable to fight!"

With a flicker of bloodthirsty delight the orc put his filthy hand to Celebrían's side, diggings his claws into her dress until he broke through to flesh and caused her to cry out. Legolas tensed, watching as he yanked his hand down, ripping a gash into her side. She tensed, then fell unconscious. It could have been the pain, it could have been blood loss, he did not know. It certainly covered the both of them enough. He watched a new river spill from her fresh wound. The vision filled him with despair and loathing. He searched himself for answers that would not come. What could he do? How could he stop this?

With an aggravated growl, the beast with the dagger tossed Celebrían off his partner to the floor. She fell in a heap, not making a sound or moving when her body hit the floor. A chill spread through him as he watched her for any small move to betray she was all right. None came.

The orcs stood, both bearing fell grins and both heading towards the cell. "You wanted some fun, boy?" the more outspoken of the two growled darkly, pulling a dark metal key from his belt. "Well, now you're gonna get your chance!"

They were hungry for his pain, just as they had hungered for hers. It never seemed to stop. He could see no end to the treachery they suffered, for every time he fought he was struck back down, each time harder than the last. He had escaped many perils and had thought he would escape this one, but even now he could feel it beginning, just as it had for Celebrían. Acceptance. Defeat. He considered himself usually optimistic, but this was beating him down and he knew not how to stop it.

So when they came for him he was prepared to fight until the end. Rage and indignity pulsed through his veins, giving him a fire to ignite his force. Hunkering down, his face a mask of concentration and resignation, he hissed, "Come then and fight me!"

"Oh, we shall!" The door swung open, then was slammed back against the wall with such a force he heard the wood crack. Snarling darkly one entered, then the other. Both wielded weapons this time.

Legolas raised his chin, not backing down. "So you come at me with weapons while I remain unarmed?"

The outspoken orc pointed his blade at him, waving it. His glinting eyes smoldered in fury. "I've had about enough of your attitude, Elf! You think you're so strong, so smart, hmm? Why you still in this hole?" He barked a sharp laugh. "Ain't you Elves afraid of caves?"

The Prince of Mirkwood smirked at that, but said nothing. He would not be goaded into revealing anything to these monsters. When one of the blades struck for him, he dodged it and grabbed for the orc's wrist. Catching it, he yanked hard, but the monster's hide was tough. It flew forward, using the Elf's pull to gather momentum and hurl Legolas back into the hard wall. Too angry to care about pain anymore, he forced himself to react instantly and kicked his foe in the stomach, sending him back into his partner. Both tumbled to the floor, growling their surprise.

Again Legolas did not wait for them to recover. He launched himself forward with a battle cry in Elvish, diving for a dagger. Catching the fist of one of his assailants, he gave his arm a hard twist and won his prize this time because of the beast's floundering state. It howled in pain, letting it drop into the Elf's hand. Legolas, in turn, plunged the blade down, aiming for the throat. Once it won past flesh he turned it and the flailing orc took a few gurgling breaths, then stopped moving.

His partner gave a furious yell, pushing Legolas off of him and tackling him to the floor. "You'll pay for that, Elf!" he growled, pinning the prince down by the shoulders. His weight was heavy and immovable, giving no way for Legolas to escape. The beast drew back his fist and sent it down into the prince's jaw. His head snapped back and he groaned, but couldn't give up. Pushing on the beast above him with reckless abandon, Legolas fought back like a caged wolf, clawing and shoving, doing anything in his power to win this battle.

The fist came down again, landing against his cheek, then again and he saw stars. The battle was lost. His shoves began losing momentum until finally he orc stopped, glaring down in satisfaction. "Now, Elf, you die."

**=======**

**Author: **Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**A/N**: Thanks again for the reviews!! hands out Elf Lords lotrfreak, sorry about that sudden transition...I had tilde's there and forgot to change them to the equal's sign between those two parts. :P Silly fanfiction.net and its petty prejudices. ;)

Mmm...yes, Deana, Rondy is a veeeery lovable Elf. ;D drools and hands self Elrond Yeee!


	10. Don't Speak

**My Immortal**  
Don't Speak

=======

Legolas looked up, preparing himself for the journey he would take to Mandos. His assailant was far too enraged to stop short of killing him. He could see that much reflecting back in those inhuman eyes. The orc's fist shook as he made ready to slam it into the Elf Prince's head, but just as he made ready to let it fall, the door to the prison banged open. Another one of the beasts appeared, his eyes looking at the prone Elf on the floor. Irritation fused with his expression. "Get off him!"

The one above Legolas growled furiously, but made no movements, one way or another. "It ain't your concern. Tell Goralûk the little thing was dead when you got here if you must, but I'm killing him!" His claws dug into the Prince of Mirkwood's shoulder.

The newcomer kicked his comrade in the side none too gently, hissing "Goralûk wants every available hand above. There's some Elf warriors causing trouble." It sneered down at Legolas, using his boot to brush dirt up on him. "These ones seem to know what they're doing, unlike some Elves." He frowned then at the orc still pinning Legolas down. "Now get up! Not as if he's gonna cause any trouble!"

Snarling, the orc glared down, then jerked himself up, grabbing the stray fallen weapons and retreating quickly without bothering to lock the door behind him. They did not see him as a threat, apparently, and as injured as he was, he hardly felt like one. Yet despite all that the spring of hope within him flowed once more. Elven warriors were fighting above. There was a real chance for he and Lady Celebrían to make it out of this alive. That alone drove the Elf to his feet. He scouted around for any abandon blades and saw none. But that didn't deter him. He was going to aid this effort as best as he could, even if it meant his life. At least now it would not be in vain.

That in mind, he exited the cell a little unsteadily at first, but with growing ease as he made it into the hallway and on towards a set of stairs. If the Valar were with him he held to the possibility of finding a weapon before entering the fray. He kept a watch on the shadows of the halls and his ears keenly listened for any sign of pursuit. Fate seemed on his side, keeping all threats away from him as he made his way towards the top of the den.

On up the stairs he could hear a mixture of steel and growls and shouting. Legolas paused at the top of the stairs and listened, trying to determine the direction from which the fight came. His ears directed him to his left, but momentarily he took the right, peering into the rooms near the stairwell. When he saw his bow thrown across a wooden table in what looked to be an unattended room, Legolas felt his spirits rise. He raced into the makeshift armory and skidded to a halt, seeing an unexpected form now that he had entered fully.

He sat at an unobtrusive little table tucked away in the corner, hidden within the shadows, his feet propped up and a grin just visible within the firelight. "Well, well," he breathed, throwing his feet down onto the floor and reaching for his sword.

In a split second decision, ignoring the dominant presense heading towards him, Legolas threw himself into the table where his bow was, took the weapon into his hand and jerked an arrow from his abandoned quiver. As he rolled to his back, he notched the arrow and by the time he was turned around he had it ready to fire. Unfortunately the orc had also been quick on his feet, knocking the bow from the Elf's hand with the broad sweep of his fist. The bow tumbled to the floor with a clatter.

Legolas wasted no upon ire, rolling in the opposite direction and landing a kick in the orc's chest as he came off the table. He landed on his hands and feet, and as he straightened he grabbed a nearby wooden chair, lifted it and hurled it at the recovering orc. The towering creature blocked and laughed at the attempt, then bolted after his prey. The Prince of Mirkwood scurried around the table and grabbed his bow, finding his arrow broken.

"You might need this, huh?" the monster hissed. When Legolas stood he saw his quiver in its hands. Smirking, the orc slammed it into the wall behind him. It fell without breaking, emptying the arrows out onto the floor. That the quiver was still whole troubled his enemy and seeking recompense, he jerked a dagger from a shelf beside him and flung it angrily.

Legolas ducked and missed being hit with ease. Clutching his sword again, the orc clambered after him, weapon raised and eyes alight with rage. The Elf Prince swept the room over with his gaze for a fraction of a second before making his choice. He saw a pile of orc arrows across the room. He could make it, he knew, but was less sure of if he could notch and draw before the monster had caught up.

Bypassing a standing shelf he ran towards his goal, listening as things crashed behind him. The orc snarled, relentlessly following after him, shoving tables and weapon cases out of its way. Legolas fought the urge to look over his shoulder, his mind on his task and only that. By the time he reached them he knew the orc was on his back. Snatching a few arrows off the table where they had been laid, Legolas ducked instinctively, narrowly missing the sword aimed at cleaving his had from his shoulders.

He darted back towards the other side of the room and the orc took advantage of his proximity, tangling its foot within the Elf's legs and effectively tripping him. He hit the floor on his stomach, the arrows pinching his palm, but did not give in. He reloaded the arrow and gave a silent prayer as he rolled onto his back again. As soon as he almost three quarters of the way risen he let go of the arrow just as the orc's boot hit his hand. It knocked the aim off just enough. The arrow sailed into its shoulder right near the throat, penetrating just above the leather cuirass it wore.

The orc howled in rage, gripping the shaft of the arrow and giving a tug and just as he pulled it free Legolas notched another arrow aimed this time for its head. It fell back with not much more than a hiss of contempt on its lips. Closing his eyes, Legolas sank back to the floor and breathed a sigh of relief.

Once he had caught his breath, he took his bow up and crossed to his quiver, gathering up the fallen arrows and repacking them. Slinging it over his shoulder was like coming home to him. He tightened the leather strap across his chest and exited the room, feeling very ready to spill more orc blood. He made haste past the stairs again and sought out where has assumed they would all be. The dining room.

Legolas entered, holding his bow and an arrow ready. His eyes closed in upon dark hair. The Elf ran through his enemy, kicked the orc off his blade and turned around to face the newcomer, stopping short with wide, blue eyes. "Legolas?" said the son of Elrond, cocking his head and looking puzzled. His momentary lapse cost him and an orc dove into him, flattening him to his chest on the floor. The Prince of Mirkwood grinned and marked his first target, shooting the beast on his friend. The arrow slammed into its head and the creature died, spilling blood past its lips.

Groaning, Elladan turned and shoved the body from him, then wiped the dark blood off his cheek. "You could have picked a better spot."

The Wood-Elf grunted, notching arrow after arrow, shooting down the orcs that had tormented he and Lady Celebrían. Elrohir, who was sword-fighting a nearby orc, chanced a few glances, then breathed, "You cheater."

Legolas gave him a smile, then shot the raven-headed Elf's enemy for him. Just as he reached over his shoulder for another arrow, Elladan yelled, "Legolas! Watch out!" Turning, he saw one of the creatures barreling towards him. He leapt out of the way none too soon, hitting the floor and rolling. Elrohir met the orc with his blade, trading blows before taking him down. He smirked at Legolas, then reached down to lend a helping hand. "Hannon le," Legolas breathed, looking around. He saw a silvery-haired Elf on the other side of the room finishing off the last of the beasts with Elladan's help. The Wood-Elf exhaled, glad that it was over. He felt very tired.  
_Thank you._

Looking him over, Elrohir shook his head. "Mellon nîn, you do not look well. What are you doing here?"  
_My friend._

He brushed his hair from his face and sighed, knowing he would have to speak of things these twins would not want to hear. "I trailed them here and was overtaken. Elrohir…" He shared a look with his friend, saw the recognition within the other's eyes that something serious was about to be said.

Footsteps closed upon their position. Elrohir looked up, knowing the mind of his brother. Sheathing his sword, the elder asked urgently, "Have you seen our mother?"

Legolas nodded, glancing towards the hall. "Down the stairs. She's on the floor. They were attacking us when another orc came…"

With a nod, cutting him off, Elladan raced out of the room. Elrohir gave his shoulder a pat in thanks, then followed after him quickly. The Prince of Mirkwood understood and looked for a place to rest. As he sank down at one of the tables the remaining Elf came with him. He looked to be one of the Galadhrim,, if he judged the clothing and bearing right. The silvery-haired, older looking Elf put his hand to his chest and bowed his head. "I am Rumil of Lórien, a fellow hunter of the Lady of Rivendell. Does she still live?"

The Mirkwood Prince nodded, looking again towards the hall. He winced, hearing one of the twins give a shout of fury. "She lives, though barely. They tormented us. I am Legolas of Mirkwood."

Rumil watched the archway with calm, grave eyes. Nodding, he said, "Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion. You look worse for wear. I offer you my horse for the trip to Rivendell, if that is where you will go."  
_Well met, Legolas son of Thranduil._

"Where are you bound?" the prince asked, absently rubbing near his injured shoulder. In truth he had not considered going to Rivendell, but he supposed Lord Elrond would want to speak with him about this. As a friend of his sons and in honor of the respect for the Lord of Rivendell Legolas had, he felt he owed it to Elrond to speak this tale personally.

The Marchwarden stood up as the twins returned, both looking pale and grieved. The eldest bore his mother in his arms, holding her tight to his chest as if to let her go would see her leaving this world for Mandos. Seeing Celebrían's waning state Legolas did not count that too far fetched a thought. He arose with Rumil, waiting for one the others to speak, for he did not have it in him to say anything. "I am returning to seek my brother," Rumil stated, looking down with sad eyes at Lady Celebrían. "Unless of course you have need."

"We will make it." It was barely a whisper. Elrohir looked up at the Lórien Elf, unable to muster anything past a nod. "Hannon le."

Rumil bowed his head to them, then turned to Legolas. "My horse is across the road leading into the pass. His name is Gaelvaethor. When you approach, tell him you come in the name of my Lord and Lady and he will bear you wherever it is you need to go. Set him free when you reach Rivendell and he will return home." He looked at the three of them one last time, searching for need, then whispered, "Namarie," as he left with his parting gaze on Celebrían.

As they watched him go, Legolas looked at his friends, his heart burdened. "I wish…"

"No," Elladan breathed, his voice strained. "Come if you will, but do not speak to me now." Without another word, holding his mother close, the elder twin stalked out of the orc den on quick feet.

Elrohir exhaled and motioned after him. "We should go. Come to Rivendell, Legolas. Let my father treat you. Are you well enough to ride?"

Rattled, the Prince of Mirkwood only nodded, also looking after his departed friend. His demeanor had stung, igniting within Legolas the guilt of having not saved her from this fate. "I am sorry."

"It is not your fault," his friend said honestly, giving his arm a squeeze. "Elladan refused to accept anything may have happened. He is angry with himself. Come."

Elrohir urged him on and together they left the orc den and stepped into the fresh air. It lifted some of the weight off his shoulders, but not all of it.

**Author: **Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

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**Sindar:1 – Hannon le. – Thank you.  
2 – Mellon nin. – My friend.  
3 – Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion. – Well met, Legolas son of Thranduil.  
**

**A/N: **Thank you all again for reviewing! sniffles and hands out chocolate MaryS - I'm considering updating my LOTR/Mummy crossover...it's daunting, but I have a few interested people. Thanks for the reviews!!!


	11. Shattered Teacups

**My Immortal**  
Shattered Teacups

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He had the gift of foresight, but he had not seen this coming, not in any of the little hints life usually left. Something was amiss, of that he was certain, and yet the coming of this morning did not herald devastation as light broke upon the horizon in a splendor untouched by the evils of the world. He watched it as he ever did, clothed in fine robes even before the dawn, ready for the affairs of the day. A perfect picture of ageless serenity, Elrond of Imladris stood within the dim of his bedchambers at the window, in his hand a cup of hot tea that had not been tasted waiting. His eyes were as gray as the morning skies, sweeping over the trees and taking in the vision of life beginning anew for another day. It was a peaceful time, when the past seemed to fade away and cease to matter. These precious quiet moments were a cleansing to the Lord of Rivendell, a rest from the pressures of day-to-day business. It was a ritual he rarely failed.

This morning he seemed to need it more than usual. He had not been sleeping well, and while it was true Elves required less rest than most creatures beneath the stars, long periods without took it's own toll. He accredited it to the building evidence of growing darkness, the threat of Mordor gradually strengthening as time passed. His sons suggested so innocently that perhaps his advanced age was getting to him. But deep down Elrond simply felt uneasy in a general, unnamable sense of the word.

The air was growing chill and soon snow would come to Rivendell again. He was a creature of the fall; he enjoyed the beauty of the leaves burning the treetops in bright shades of russet and gold. The softness of that season, the fading light and quiet of the harvest was like coming home to him. The snow would erase all of that, dimming the life surrounding his city and not only that, but it secretly served as a reminder to him of how short time was growing. He felt it; the last age of the Elves was coming to a close. With that came a sudden feeling hidden inside of unfinished business. He liked not to think on just what that business was, but the signs were everywhere. The darkness touched Mirkwood now and would continue to spread until no corner of Middle-earth was untainted.

There was time before the worst of it would come, but not enough. _Never enough._

These brooding thoughts brought him back to the source of his immediate disquiet. This business with Celebrían was growing less and less comfortable as the days passed. He worried for her, his sons who searched and Arwen who kept trying to find out in her own subtle ways what was going on. It made him feel tense inside, this uncertainty.

Absently Elrond ran his thumb across the band of Vilya on his finger, touching the metal as if touching its power. Through it he could maintain the lands, cause the plants to thrive and command the very waters to stand guard over his valley. But it could not bring his wife back to him, nor tell him where she was. He thought again upon speaking with Galadriel through the Ring's power.

The bond between Celebrían and her parents ran deep and both the Lord and Lady held such power as to be able to sense the walk of others. They knew their daughter had not passed to the Halls of Mandos. While that relieved Elrond, it did not answer the questions and there was something else—a tone within the words of Galadriel's thoughts passing to him. When she was of a mind his mother-in-law could be remarkably difficult to penetrate. What she may have suspected she never said, but her words did nothing to quell the malcontent of his heart.

He had then done only what he could in sending his sons. He waited for their return with baited breath, though he did not show it always. For as busy as he was and how heavy his burdens, he never forgot for one moment the family that surrounded him. He was the foundation of Rivendell, but he felt he would be nothing without _his_ foundation in them. Not after all he had lost in this world.

Elrond took a breath, unwilling to travel that weary path again. He pushed the past from his mind and embraced his present as the gates of Rivendell were opened suddenly. His chambers overlooked the front yard of the mansionary, front and center in a symbolic greeting to any that entered the secret valley. Lifting the cup to his mouth he watched and waited to see who was coming at so early an hour.

The tea never made it past his lips.

They came into the city upon travel-worn mounts, three Elvish riders, their gait somber and each looking worse for wear. Raven hair and stormy eyes identified his twin sons, but the golden hair of the rider behind them was too light and the build too masculine to be who it should be. Elrond called up images from memory and saw him for who he was. The Prince of Mirkwood trailed his sons, his head bowed and his bearing weakened. Blood colored his hair in streaks. Startled, the Lord of Rivendell searched his sons again, having taken for granted that they would be all right. They always were. Tragic things did not befall this family.

There was nothing visibly wrong with them, other than a little wear as if they had been in a particularly bad scuffle. But something did catch Elrond's attention. The elder twin did not ride alone, he saw upon looking again, but bore a form covered in his own cloak. Elladan shifted his position on his dark horse, looking up at the window as if knowing his father would be there. Their eyes locked for one fleeting moment and then his son brushed the hood from his mother's face. Golden hair fell in messy tumbles from the dark fabric, strands of sunshine that were matted by sweat and by blood.

The cup of tea hit the floor and shattered.

The sound of it filled his ears as he turned away from the window and looked upon the great wooden door keeping him from the reality of this terrible vision he had just endured. Part of him wanted to look again, to be sure it had not been some sort of twisted working of his imagination, but he did not turn back. There was no time.

His pulse steadily rising, Elrond rushed out from his bedroom, from his study and into the dim halls that had not yet seen the glory of full daylight. It was silent out here, unpopulated by the usual movement that would come in only an hour's time. No matter the speed of his pace, Elrond could not seem to get through his own home quickly enough. Had his grace failed him, he would have tripped in his haste to traverse the stairs.

At the bottom he ran into Glorfindel, who had been rushing to trace the path Elrond was making. Wide, blue eyes met his and for a moment nothing was said, then the other Elf came forward, clasping his hand over his Lord's arm. "You saw," he surmised solemnly.

"Yes," Elrond replied in a quiet way, finding it difficult to speak just now. His mind was filled with many wonderings, from how his wife had come to be in such a state to what the extent of her sufferings had been. These questions swirled within him like a spring windstorm sweeps across the land.

**=======**

**Author: **Ruse ****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**A/N: **This was actually supposed to be the first part, but I decided to change it..so if it has that tone, that's why. ;) Thanks for the reviews!!! Hope you enjoyed! hands out cookies


	12. Fall Apart

**My Immortal**  
Fall Apart

Legolas was among those who found the wife of Lord Elrond after her ill-fated attack on the way home from Lothlórien. His investigation of the matter lands him into trouble, not to mention painful, haunting memories. (Heavy on Legolas and Elrond plots, non-slash)

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As the two Elves came unto the main entrance the great doors were already swinging open for the riders. There were voices of others outside calling for the horses to be handled and for the watch to be increased. Elladan was the first to come in, swift on his feet with an expression Elrond had never before seen upon the face of either of his sons. He was very afraid, this young Elf that was nearly reckless in his faith that nothing bad could befall them.

Behind him came Elrohir, slowly and with much the same expression as his brother displayed. They were rattled, shocked by whatever they had seen. Elrohir looked to the floor for a place to lay his bedroll, tossed it down in an unobtrusive spot and leaned against the wall, waiting. They were all waiting, Elrond realized, though only a mere span of seconds had passed since his arrival. The Prince of Mirkwood came beside him slowly, decorated in bruises and blood, looking as though he would collapse. Elrohir hovered there at his side, asking him if he were all right.

A small feminine moan removed all sounds, all sights and all observations from the forefront of Elrond's attention. Hearing it was like being jerked from a dream. He turned to his son and looked down into his arms at the shivering form of his wife. A sudden surreal horror crept into the moment as he beheld her wounds. There could be no doubt in his mind or in the mind of any other here that the author of this abuse was no Man, nor Elf, nor Dwarf. This was the work of irredeemable evil, of the creatures of Sauron.

Elrond stretched his arms out and accepted her into them, unable to tear his eyes away from her closed eyelids. "What happened?" he asked in a solid tone, knowing he must maintain an exterior of strength for all concerned. He looked into the face of his son for answers.

Elladan smoothed his sleeve across his cheek, wiping at some blood there. He shook his head as he watched his mother's troubled repose. "She was taken by orcs that have infested the Misty Mountains. Legolas was held with her for a time."

Only a brief look was spared to the young Elf whose eyes met Elrond's with sorrow. The Rivendell Lord's gaze silently asked all the questions his heart held, then flickered away as the he turned to bear his wife to his study. He did not look back to see who was coming with him as he carried her up the stairs with as much haste as he dared. Inside himself Elrond began to forge a barrier to keep his feelings at bay so he could do what lay ahead. He both welcomed and feared the spreading numb, but in any case knew it would be necessary in the beginning. He had to think right now even though underneath it all he was shaking.

The trip to his study seemed to take no time at all. They were there before it could hit him. The silence in the room was backdropped by the shuffle of feet and Celebrían's pained whimper as he laid her upon one of the couches by the fire. Undoing the cloak at her neck and pushing it off, he took a moment to do a preliminary scan of her body. The sky colored dress she had worn was ripped in many places, and made dark by dirt and blood. He took a moment to just look into her face, sliding his fingers tenderly down her cheek.

Above him a nursemaid came, having been called up by someone to tend the wounded Lady of Rivendell. She placed bandages upon the table beside him and raced away to another task, knowing her duties well. For all his learning Elrond felt almost lost at where to begin himself.

His hand seemed to lack feeling as it hit upon her shoulder, fingers curling around the tattered fabric as he shook her gently. "Celebrían?" he prodded, trying to rouse her. "Celebrían, lasto na hervenn lîn. Nuitho îdh lîn. Nuitho…**1**" His voice trailed off when she did not awaken.

He moved on, reaching for the torn opening of her dress. This was no time for modesty. He ripped the fabric down her, exposing undergarments saturated in blood. There was so much of it; scarlet that nearly replaced all the white. Her side had a gash painfully visible beneath a clawed tear in her clothes. He carefully peeled the blood-soaked cloth away, then ripped it open and off. When all the coverings had been removed, a chill spread through him. Bruises and cuts were everywhere, marring her thighs, her arms, her stomach. Her shoulder had been bitten.

"My Lord," Glorfindel said gently from above. "My lord, perhaps you should allow one of the other healers…"

"No!" Elrond's response cut into the seneschal's suggestion sharply. He reached for a cleaning rag that had been placed nearby, dipped it in a provided bowl of warm water and began the long work of mending his broken wife. He would apologize later, but right now all that mattered was her.

Two hour's work availed enough that Elrond could finally pause. She had awakened once, frightened and fighting until he calmed her with soothing words. Then she had given him such a look as would linger in his darkest memories for ages to come. He was not certain he wanted to know what she had suffered to cause such pain.

After stitches, pain healing herbs and stabilization, Elrond turned from her and sat his full weight upon the floor, leaning his back against the couch. He looked down at his hands and saw blood there. It covered his dusky-blue robes in a terrible contrast. Not that he would ever want to wear these clothes again, anyway. He dropped his hands to his lap and lifted his gaze to his eldest son, who stood at the door. "How is she?"

Elrond closed his eyes, tired mentally and emotionally. He was nearly afraid to speak, for the illusion would be broken and all that he held so carefully hidden would burst free. Gathering his composure, he forced the pain to forge strength in a certainty that drove his tone hard. "She will live."

Elladan gazed over his father, looking upon his mother with uncertainty and fear. And an edge. It was unmistakable in this one. Elladan would soon look for some sort of justice for this, if he could. Elrond gave him a stern look, knowing well what his son was thinking. The young Elf honored his father, but was willful. His expression was not one of deference.

The Lord of Rivendell shouldered the concern. Now was not the time. Careful to avoid getting blood on the carpet, he stood up and gave his wife a parting look before nodding to the nursemaid that waited by her side. He could not remain here right now, not with so many questions on his mind. Not with so much fear in his heart. "Tell me what happened," he said, taking up a place beside his son and urging him into the hallway.

They stopped there by the door and Elladan gave a glance down the hallway. "My brother and I searched well from the doorstep of home on to the Misty Mountains, but it was Elrohir's insight that Nana would not be found before the High Pass. So we went there with all haste. Elrohir was right. We found her in an orc nest beyond the Pass, being held by orcs. Rumil had tracked her there and aided us in the fight. We do not know much, but Legolas was with her."

Looking down the hall where his son had, Elrond asked, "Where is he?"

"He is resting, after having collapsed, Ada. Shall I take you there?"

Elrond nodded and they began. He wondered how a young prince of Mirkwood would come to be traveling with his wife. Did he have a purpose in Rivendell? "How is he?"

Elladan shook his head, his tone clinical and hard. "He is not well. Traveling was difficult for him, but he made it on Rumil's horse. The orcs apparently overpowered him." They came to a door where Elladan let go of his harsh tone. "Here. This is where he was taken. Elrohir is with him I believe."

Laying a hand on the doorknob, the elder nodded and turned. The room's sole source of illumination was the slight part in the drapes across from the bed. Elrond entered and remedied that so he could get a better look at the injured prince. As he pulled them further apart, Legolas of Mirkwood opened his eyes and attempted to sit, favoring his right arm. Approaching, the Elf Lord waved him back and took a chair beside him. "You look like you're in pain. Has my son left you unattended?" he asked mildly, seeing no sign of Elrohir.

Legolas shook his head. "Only for the moment, to inquire about his mother." He was a soft-spoken young Elf, Elrond recalled. He had only met him a handful of times and always Legolas had spoken with respect despite old contentions between King Thranduil and himself. The prince looked at him with genuine concern. "How is the Lady?"

Elrond felt another stab of reality; busied himself by examining the cuts marring the prince's face. "She is…stable," he replied in a strained tone as he slid his gaze down to the blood soaking the shoulder of the youth's hunting clothes. "Open your shirt if you can and I will tend you."

The Mirkwood Elf complied immediately, though he had a rough time of it. Elrond aided him and saw an ugly gash glaring out at him. The skin nearby was tender to the touch, causing Legolas to flinch at the examination. The silence seemed to resonate uncomfortably between them. Elrond had no idea why this young one had been with his wife and Legolas knew nothing he said could comfort the Lord of Rivendell. Still, he tried. "I…wish I had gotten there sooner. I am truly sorry." He winced as Elrond pressed near the gash again. There were wooden splinters in the torn flesh.

Elrond frowned and took his hand away, shaking his head. "I have my work cut out for me, I see." He stood up. "I will collect my supplies. When I return I would like to know what happened."

Legolas nodded gravely. "I will tell you all I know."

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**Author: **Ruse – ****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:**  
1 - Celebrían, lasto na hervenn lîn. Nuitho îdh lîn. Nuitho… - Celebrían, listen to your husband. Stop your sleeping. Stop…  
2 - Ada…Nana… - Father (Daddy), Mother (Mommy)

**A/N: **The second half of my prologue. ;) Thanks to all my reviewers! Means a bunch!


	13. Quiet

**My Immortal  
**Quiet

Legolas was among those who found the wife of Lord Elrond after her ill-fated attack on the way home from Lothlórien. His investigation of the matter lands him into trouble, not to mention painful, haunting memories. (Heavy on Legolas and Elrond plots, non-slash)

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The House of Elrond was quiet. Anyone with discernment could tell something was amiss, though no one spoke openly of it. The first time he had ever been to Rivendell he head been greeted by the voices of Noldor, singing joyful songs of welcome to he and the twins as they entered the gates. There had been an undercurrent of genuine peace permeating the atmosphere that had moved him to joy. The atmosphere still moved him, but now to sorrow instead of delight. The woods within the Valley were quiet and each face bore a somber, grave expression. The details had not been told to all, but those that had seen Celebrían's arrival knew she had been seriously wounded. They would keep a respectful distance until this tragedy was resolved.

Standing at the window in his quarters, Legolas looked out at the trees, feeling the thriving curiosity of nature abuzz. Nothing was unaffected by this. Nothing was safe from the grief and uncertainty.

He wondered how Lady Celebrían was faring now that she had been taken from the depths of darkness and brought back to those that loved her. It had only been a day, but he had expected something by now, some form of news. Instead none of the Halfelven family ventured far from their private apartments and Legolas did not feel it was his place to seek out his friends. Especially with the way Elladan acted towards him. Elrohir assured him that it was not personal, that his brother would remember himself soon, but the Mirkwood Elf was not so sure. He was patient through this, would be to the end, but it did hurt him.

Frowning, Legolas rubbed at his chest, staying away from his tender shoulder, but uncomfortable with pain. It was a small price to leave Elrond in peace, however. He did not wish to take the chance he would be disturbed for an herb or a question, so Legolas toughed it out and remained right where he was for the time being.

Eventually the healing came to him. A knock at the door brought the Prince of Mirkwood from his gloomy thoughts. Pulling away from the view outside, Legolas ventured to the door and opened it. The vision outside was a welcome surprise, though he feared where their conversations may lead. He was curious, but anxious that the truth may be more bothersome than he felt he could bear after so much torment. Elrohir cocked his head and wore a wan smile for his benefit, holding up a bowl with a rag in it. "I bring you the fruits of my father's calendula flowers. They weep for your pain."

Shaking his head, Legolas moved aside and muttered, "I am sure they do." He shut the door as the younger twin entered the room, walking towards a couch across the way.

Elrohir sank down and motioned him over with a stern expression that reminded the young prince of the Lord of Rivendell. "Ada says this should still be warm when I put it on you. He didn't say why, probably wanted me to avoid stopping along the way, but I suppose we should not take the chance in case his advise is, in fact, valid."

Giving his friend a sigh, he did as he had been told and sat down, opening his shirt. Peeling back the bandages proved to be difficult with only one hand available and more than that, painful as the cloth pulled away from dried blood. The skin beneath his stitches was an angry red that he wholly felt. Taking the wet compress from his friend, he put it to his shoulder and inhaled sharply. "Did your father send anything else?" he asked hopefully.

The raven-headed Noldor grinned softly and nodded. "A few questions. How are you feeling otherwise? He's concerned about your head. Any head aches?"

"None," Legolas replied simply, peeking beneath the dripping cloth.

Elrohir studied him with an easy expression. "I know you already suffer from damage to your faculties, so I know further damage would not be noticed, but Ada thinks honesty would be prudent. You know he will ask you later, anyway."

"My faculties are safe," the prince replied dryly, leaning back on the couch. "How is your mother?" He asked it suddenly, knowing if he did not get it out now he would balk forever. Legolas pushed himself to meet his friend's eyes and face the inevitable pain he would see.

Those clear gray eyes had been prepared, but even still bore the evidence of worry. "She lives. We know that much at least. Ada would not discuss it beyond that." He lowered his voice sadly and explained, "Arwen was present. He did not want her to imagine everything that had been done to our mother and my brother and I agree, so we have told her nothing of what we saw. Therefore I ask that should she come to you, you would also remain silent. Most especially concerning the darker facts of her attack." It was a schooled request, practiced so that when the time came he could speak it and not break down. Legolas could recognize that and his sorrow increased.

Looking at the floor, the archer tried to blot all that he had seen from his thoughts, but it was not easy. "How is your father?" he asked, afraid to pursue the matter of Celebrían any further.

Elrohir's face paled slightly and his eyes grew distant. "I have never seen him so quiet. He is a natural brooder, any who knows him can see that, but there is something more. He is afraid, though he will not admit it. His profuse assurances that Nana will recover fully seem to lose the intended effect when you look into his eyes."

Giving his friend a comforting look, Legolas shook his head and said, "All will be well, Elrohir. This is only her first full day home. Everyone is still in shock. It will take time, but when she is laughing again you will forget the pain of these evil days."

The sheer longing in the peredhel's eyes forced the blond archer to turn his gaze away. "I hope you are right, mellon nín."  
_Peredhel – Half-Elf. Mellon nín = my friend._

"I am," Legolas replied, hoping as well that he was. Peering again beneath the cloth, not really sure when he was supposed to remove it, he then decided to rid himself of his final concern. "And Elladan?"

Elrohir gave him a sidelong look of irritation. "He is as nervous as a rabbit and as vicious as a bear. Always has he been my protector, but now he needs someone to protect him. The trouble is I know not how. My own heart grieves and his fury makes it all the worse, but what can I say to calm him? I cannot calm myself."

Venturing to take the compress off, then reapplying it when Elrohir shook his head, Legolas sighed and searched himself for something to say that could solve this, but came up blank. In the end he could only repeat what he had said from the beginning. "I am sorry. What can I do?"

"Bear with him," the twin answered simply. "He needs you now even if he does not know it. He feels he must be strong and resents it at times, which causes him to lash out. Forgive him."

Legolas looked his friend over with a mild expression. "Wisdom from your lips?"

Elrohir matched his countenance. "A precursor to doom, perhaps."

The Mirkwood Prince shook his head. "Do not even jest that way. You will get through this. Your family will get through this."

"Aye, we shall," his friend stated as if it were a decision. He leaned forward then and held his hand out for the rag. Grateful, Legolas handed it over and moved his shoulder slightly, testing it out. He groaned at the sting, but noticed it had lessened. Elrohir smiled. "Come. Ada commands you should eat."

"Commands?" Legolas repeated with an amused glint in his eyes.

Elrohir nodded most seriously. "Commands. That and there is the matter of the headaches you profess you do not have."

Raising his eyebrow, the Mirkwood archer drew his head up proudly. "Do you insinuate that I would lie?"

His friend's smile widened a little. He remained silent a moment as if considering, then raised his hand up and in a quick action, tapped the wood-Elf's head a little less than gently. Legolas groaned and rubbed his forehead with a glare as Elrohir nodded. "Not lie, no. Underestimate, yes. The sooner you get it seen to the better off you will be. Come."

"It is only minor," he retorted. Exiting the room with Elrohir, Legolas grumbled beneath his breath, but followed, eager for a meal and perhaps an herb for his head as well.

=======

**Author: **Ruse

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**A/N: **Thanks again for the reviews! Sorry for the long wait, my internet was out of order. Doh!


	14. Beginning the End

**My Immortal**  
Beginning the End

XXXXXXX

She was asleep, her soft form hidden beneath satin sheets of pale blue. The nights were not easy on her, plaguing her with dreams of terrible things, and did not show any signs of getting better as time passed. She would awaken into shouts, fighting him as he tried desperately to calm her. Then, inevitably, he would hold her as her tears ran their course, she would settle and the cycle would begin anew. Elrond never left her at night. Not for a moment, though there were times he wanted to, if only to escape the pain. But he stood his ground and remained with her, trying so hard to be her strength. He pushed himself to his limits, then waited for more.

A soft moan had roused him from a comfortable doze his body had allowed him to slip into, here at the chair by the window in their bedroom. Now he sat, watching the stars through half-lidded eyes, too tired to feel. He wasn't keeping good hours, while she slept away many of hers. Things were a mess, as if the poison she had been inflicted with had taken to destroying their hearts now that it was cured of her body. His sons were angry, afraid. His daughter… Elrond closed his eyes tightly, trying to combat his emotions. Arwen's eyes when he had told her of the attack were burned into his memory, large and sorrowed.

He was no fool as to think she could simply brush aside an attack of this magnitude. She had been violated in a terrible way, abused by coarse hands and treated as a plaything for the minions of darkness. He held no illusions that she would be able to get over the terror and shame so soon. But her pain worried him. No matter how natural it was he could not shake the feeling of fearing she would be swallowed up in it. Never before had he felt so helpless, so useless. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn were even now on their way here. Perhaps they could do what he could not.

The Lord of Rivendell brushed a hand through his loose hair as if plagued by a headache. The starlight shining down on him was scarce comfort right now, beautiful though it was. They provided him with a dark feeling, dark images that began so innocently.

Beneath the stars he had chased her within the brush of Lothlórien, the outskirts of Caras Galadhon quiet this far from the central city. Her laughter rang out, echoing along the woods like a silvery bell. She was as graceful as a bird, but somehow could not help but fall within a soft bed of leaves near the edge of a stream, gripping his robe and jerking him with her. Elrond had laughed, teasing her for her clumsiness, then kissed her softly.

He had asked her to marry him that night.

He tried so hard to grasp the memory, to force it to replay just as it had back then, but his thoughts were intruded upon by a leap back into reality. He could never hold on for long, never keep his memories sanctified from the pain of where his path had taken him. She would stir, moan or look at him and he would see her pained expression, blood covering her form. In the night he was haunted by the truth, alone and grieving without anyone to be his strength.

Celebrían pushed the sheets back from her, sitting up in their bed. Her hair obscured half of her face, but he could see she was looking at him. Pulling a fallen strap of her white gown back up her shoulder, she draped her feet over the edge of the bed and stood, silently moving towards the washroom. He turned back towards the window and removed the hope from his expression.

Long moments passed before her return. By the time she neared the bed he was standing, leaning against the sill and watching the trees gently sway with the night breeze. She came up to his side and he looked down, brushing her hair from her face. "What do you need, meleth?" he whispered, taking a deep breath.

She favored her side and he guessed her words before she uttered them. "It hurts. Can you help me?"

"Of course." As she turned he put his hand to the small of her back, leading her towards the bed where she sank down, drawing her skirt up. Elrond kept the numbing elixir on hand, right by the bed, for these occasions. Celebrían lifted her gown, bearing her side and he noticed her eyes close as he examined the tender wound. He noticed it a lot, but never let on that it bothered him, knowing the last thing she needed right now was to be pushed. The truth was as much as he and his children wanted things to be normal again, they couldn't be. Not now. He could not imagine what went through her mind now and then after all she had suffered. He had not gone through these things himself and yet to think of it was terrible for him.

Within the Lord of Imladris was a well of rage unlike he had ever experienced before. He could feel the tendrils of it awakening inside, reaching with black claws to wrap around his heart again as it had since he had learned of her cruel fate. He had been angry with Elros for leaving him. Angry that his brother had been given a choice, even though he fully knew how precious this birthright of his family was. For the longest time he had not understood his brother's choice to be mortal, to leave him. He had been grieved when his king, Gil-Galad had perished. Angry simply did not justify the depth of his emotion that day.

Yet those things were nothing in comparison to the fury he felt now. How dare they put their hands on that which was his?! His hands on her skin trembled and he pulled them back, trying to hide that he was troubled. But the anger churned within him still. Inside he felt the desperate need for some sort of justice, but the wisdom always prevailed. He knew he could not risk himself in some bloodlust filled hunt that would take him away from where he was needed. Elrond mourned that fact at times, too. Sometimes he wanted to abandon wisdom and throw himself into the moment. The moment he had found the evidence of her assault he would have, too, had she not needed him so desperately. It had been like a physical blow to his body.

He looked down and saw his fists tightened and with a sigh, let go. Anger would not help him now. It was a fire that would destroy him if he did not quench it. Celebrían pushed the soft material of her gown down her hip and turned, looking up into his face. She knew he was wavering. He could see it reflected within her eyes. Sighing softly, she brushed a lock of his dark hair out of his eyes and right then he nearly gave himself over to the weakness so intent on assailing him. But he couldn't. He had to be strong, so he looked away. "Iston Im avo rado sen caul u-long," she said softly.

He raced his eyes to her face, shaking his head and reaching a hand to her cheek. "Le u-vaur in naeth celich. Deri si a geri sîdh."

Celebrían exhaled again and pulled her face away from his touch, averting her eyes. "What if I cannot stop?" The uncertainty in her voice filled him with grief.

He impulsively reached for her, a natural thing for him to do, seeking to enfold her into his arms. She allowed it but her reluctance was not missed. Laying his head against her shoulder, he closed his eyes and breathed, "You can. You will. There will come a day when you will miss the worry, you will realize it is no longer there and rejoice. All it takes is time."

His words had little effect on her. His wife moved against him, trying to get comfortable, but inevitably she could not. "Perhaps," she responded, pulling away and looking down at the bed. "Elrond, will you give me some time tonight? Let me sleep alone?"

The question startled him. He would never deny her the right to privacy, of course, but never had she ever asked him out of their bedroom. He looked on her with wide eyes and saw her flinch in renewed pain, so he did what he thought best to relieve that pain. His own feelings could wait. "Of course, meleth. I would give you the stars if I could. You know that."

Her eyes lingered on his face in an almost longing way as she settled down, cradling the pillow to her head. His rage died there and melted away into aching. "I'm sorry, Elrond. I wish…"

He put his fingers to her lips and shook his head, trying not to let the grief overtake him. "Think nothing of it, my wife. I understand that you time and I can give you that. I only want that you will have a night of peaceful rest. I love you."

She wiped a few tears from her face and reached for him, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "Hannon le, meleth nin. Your understanding means much to me."

"Then it is a boundless gift I give to you if it makes you happy," he replied, bringing her hand to his mouth and laying a tender kiss upon the soft skin. She didn't flinch away, but neither did it seem that his gesture had brought her any hope. With a parting look Elrond moved from the bed and turned away from her, his watch fixed on the door ahead of him. Once it was shut he leaned against it and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the feelings assailing him. He suddenly felt as if she were slipping from his grasp.

"Ada?" The quiet way in which she spoke brought a sensation of calm to his suddenly troubled soul. The Lord of Imladris opened his eyes, gathering his composure for Arwen's sake. From the dim hallway she approached, her hands folded within a dark robe, her blue eyes shaded with concern. "Ada, how is Naneth?"

Elrond searched himself fervently for a delicate answer. "She rests," he chose to say, seeing immediately in her expression that he had chosen poorly. "Her wounds sometimes still pain her."

Arwen nodded, coming closer to him. She seemed to be probing his gaze, looking for the truth of the matter, a truth he knew he could not hide just now. When her hand fell upon his arm he looked away. "Ada, what happened to her?" she asked him, her voice quiet and soft.

"She was attacked," he responded simply, resolved not to go further than that.

Arwen's hand on his arm tightened and he looked into her face, seeing anger there. Rarely did his little girl give him such a look, but when she did it pained him. "I have been asking questions for a week with no answers to quell my fears. Will no one tell me how my mother fares? She does not leave her rooms and you let no one see her."

That was what they believed. In truth he had not the heart to speak what Celebrían had said, that she had no will to see anyone, even her own children. She could not stand the thought of them seeing her so weakened and yet in that she sacrificed the strength that communication could provide. He tried to tell her of this, but she would not listen. And so he took the burden upon himself for the sake of his children. "I have said I do not want her disturbed, child. I should hope you of all would understand and obey my wishes."

His words did not have the intended effect. The gaze of his daughter hardened and she let go of him then, snapping, "I am not a child!" The passion of her voice startled him and Elrond looked upon her with wide eyes. But when tears filled hers he found all his anger melt away and the pain resurface all the more. As Arwen began to weep he enfolded her into his embrace, berating himself for his own silence when she asked, "Ada, is Naneth fading into Mandos?"

"Nay, Iell, she is not fading," he said gently, closing his eyes and willing himself to be strong again. He could not allow his troubled heart to worsen the fears of his children. "I am sorry I have been silent, but I only wish to protect you. Naneth is not fading. She will survive."

He did not know how to answer her next question. "Then why can I not see her?"

XXXXXXX

**Author: **Ruse

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:  
**1 -Iston Im avo rado sen caul u-long. – I know I don't make this burden light.  
2 - Le u-vaur in naeth celich. Deri si a geri sîdh. – You don't need the worry you carry. Stop now and have peace.  
3 – Iell. – Daughter.****

**A/N**: Can someone PLEASE tell me what the big deal is about putting certain things as your section break? Now the equal sign doesn't even work for me!

Sorry, guys, I'm late on a lot of things, I know. sob Things have been...busy. ;) Anyway, yeah...I've had complaints about putting the translations at the end instead of nearby, because of having to lose one's spot and scroll down. That's why I stuck the trans right in the text, like say a movie puts the subtitles during the words, not the end. shrugs :X Sorry!

Anyway, thanks again for the reviews! Means a bunch! Hope you continue to enjoy, even in the sadness.


	15. Fading

**My Immortal**  
Fading

. . . . . . .

Leaning against his chair, Legolas observed with growing unease the distraction of his friends. He knew that what they were suffering was indeed painful and he wished sorely that he could do something, anything to help them. As the days passed with no word from their mother their despair grew. Elrohir was quiet, going off by himself often, gazing with wistful eyes out the windows or at various decorations within the home. Even now he gazed absently at the floor as if seeing another time and place. Yet despite that it was not he that Legolas worried over.

Elladan paced there in the dining hall where the three of them were seated, wasting away the morning without words or activity. At every meal the absence of Lady Celebrían was obvious, but what made this morning different had been the fact that Lord Elrond had also been missing. Arwen had discreetly told them he was resting, but her expression was not a peaceful one. Later the twins had pressed her for any details she knew and the princess had told them of her midnight encounter with their grieving father.

Rubbing near his still very tender shoulder, Legolas pondered what it was that caused the heart to seek after painful knowledge. Knowing what pain their parents endured did nothing to help the twins cope. He had been little when his own mother had been lost, but he could still remember the great suffering of his father. Thranduil had lost something of himself in seeing his wife murdered, lost his ability to be open even as Legolas had lost some of his innocence. He could still recall how terrible it was to see his father grow silent and distant. He had no desire to see his friends endure the same.

"Perhaps you should go and speak with your father," he suggested, looking up at them through grave eyes.

Elladan was the first to respond, his tone harsh and bitter. "What have I to say to him?"

Inwardly, Legolas sighed. The elder twin was so full of passion, so full of rage and it was directed at everyone and everything. "Elladan, do not let a rift come between you and he," he said blatantly, citing the problem instead of hinting at it.

Stopping and turning with wide, angry eyes. "Do not presume to tell me how to relate to my own father, Legolas. I have nothing to say to him."

The Prince of Mirkwood shook his head, frustrated he could not get through to his friend. "How can you say this of him? He is suffering."

"Then he would do well to see to our mother's recovery!" Elladan shouted, throwing his hand up. He then turned away and began pacing again. "He is the greatest healer among our people and yet Naneth manages to still be unwell."

Brought from his silence by his brother's irrational anger, Elrohir sat straighter and glared at him. "Elladan, she was attacked! What do you expect? Do you think he _enjoys_ seeing her in pain?"

"Of course not!" Elladan ran a hand through his raven hair, glaring at his younger brother. "But there has to be more he could be doing. There _has_ to be!"

"And what more would you have me do?" Three sets of eyes traveled towards the door to see the shadow of the Lord of Imladris. His voice was soft and guarded, his eyes shown with deep hurt as he spoke. "There is not a moment that goes by that I do not ask myself what more I can do, Ion. If you have any ideas I would be more than willing to hear them." Despite his words, however, Lord Elrond did not wait for a reply. His sorrowed form retreated from the doorway and for a terrible moment all was silent.

Then Elrohir spoke, his tone sharp. "Would you have us lose him as well?" he asked, his gaze unwavering as he waited for his brother's reply.

Elladan's eyes were wide, stricken and Legolas looked away, knowing there would be a fight. "What do you imply?" he said dangerously low, approaching his twin.

"I imply that we should be prepared for anything, Muindor. Anything. I love Nana as much as you, but to let myself believe that nothing bad could befall her would be foolish." He took again to looking away and a glance showed the Prince of Mirkwood that he was deeply suffering. "We may lose her. Let us not add Ada to that loss by turning him away."

Again silence seemed to dominate and Legolas tensed, knowing his friend well. Many times the twins were of the same mind, but more often Elladan was hot headed and stubborn, particularly when it was Elrohir being the wiser of the two. Footsteps echoed within the quiet of the room, driven by purpose rather than senseless pacing. His eyes blazing, Elladan bent down and gripped his brother's tunic, hissing, "Take it back! How dare you suggest such a thing!?"

Ruffled, Elrohir pushed his brother away from him and stood his ground, glaring up from his chair. "I dare to be realistic, Elladan. Denying the truth will only make it harder on you! Do you forget our vision?"

"A dream! It was only a dream!" the elder twin responded harshly, moving again towards his brother. This time Elrohir rose from his chair, ready to defend himself as Elladan pushed him.

Pained by this display, hating to see the family of his friends being torn apart, Legolas stood as well, moving to intervene. As Elrohir shoved back, Elladan was drawing his fist back, an action that shocked and sickened the Wood-Elf, who lamented the situation that drove them to such depths. Rushing to where the twins of Imladris were beginning to battle, he looped his arm within Elladan's, pulling back and throwing his friend off balance. Angry, Elladan pushed him away and Legolas groaned as his shoulder flared up in sudden pain. It caught him breathless and he pulled back a few steps, holding himself in a protective stance as he looked up.

"You would hurt our friend in your rage?" Elrohir growled, but made no move to continue the fight.

An expression of regret flickered across the elder's face as he looked in concern to where Legolas stood, watching with grave eyes. The Prince of Mirkwood shook his head, rubbing his collarbone. "Say no more, Elrohir. I take no offence."

Elladan lowered his eyes, but was still too angry to apologize and Legolas understood that, even as the elder turned away, heading towards the door. He exited without a word, without a glance and Legolas exhaled, wandering to a window. Elrohir joined him, stopping at his right. "You should let me look at that shoulder, mellon nin. And perhaps you should not be so quick to excuse him. The latter is only an opinion, of course." He grunted sourly, looking at his friend.

Opening his tunic partway, Legolas pulled back the bandage and saw that the skin had not been damaged further by the jerk. Elrohir stole a glance, but said nothing, making the same observation. Legolas closed his shirt and looked outside with sad eyes. He did not like to hear Elrohir speak of losing his mother. Of course he understood the need to be prepared for the worst, but it seemed as if his friend was giving up at times. Having his mother here was a precious gift, Legolas understood the loss of that well, and he had no desire to see his friends accept that fate if they could do anything to change it. He knit his brow, trying to push away the sudden voice that invaded his memory, the screams that haunted him. He had to be strong for them. Now was not the time for old grief to resurface.

He sighed and gave his friend a sidelong glance. "Nay, I will not hold his actions against him during so terrible a time. He suffers and does not know how else to express that other than to fight. You know this better than I."

Elrohir glared at an unoffending tree outside, probably seeing something else within his mind's eye. "Aye, I know it. It is aggravating."

"Why do you look to her passing with such certainty?" Legolas asked, knowing he could not change a brother's view of his own.

The raven-haired prince exhaled and crossed his arms. For an instant Legolas saw Elrond in that expression. "Because I am afraid, Legolas," he said nakedly and the Prince of Mirkwood looked down, fingers toying with a swaying drape at his left. His friend continued in a hushed tone. "I am afraid that if I hope, I will be wrong. Elladan was always able to brush things aside, but not I. I want to believe all will be well, but what if I am wrong?"

He was unsure what to say. What counsel could he give his friend that would ease such pain and fear? Legolas searched himself and felt wisdom failed him. In the end he could think of only one thing. "Is it not better to believe and be wrong, than to doubt and be wrong?" He turned, seeing a puzzled look on his friend's face. "You know what could happen. Now you may choose to believe she will fade to Mandos and allow it to happen by accepting the grief, or you may believe she has a chance and help her fight to remain. If she cannot then at least you will have tried, knowing what could happen if you failed."

Elrohir's eyes moistened, but he did not let it overtake him. Returning his wet gaze towards the outside, he whispered, "I do not know if I am that strong."

Clapping his friend on the back, Legolas gave him a reassuring look. "You are, mellon nin. You are."

A discreet cough from behind them drew their attention. Both Legolas and Elrohir turned to see one of the housemaids at the door. She bowed in respect. "My Lord, I was sent to find you and your family. The Lord and Lady of Lothlórien have arrived."

A look of hope crossed Elrohir's features as he shared a look with Legolas, then motioned him on. Perhaps a visit with her parents would aid the Lady Celebrían in this so terrible time. Legolas fervently prayed so as they traversed the House of Elrond.

The reunion between the Halfelven family and their Lórien kin was a quiet one. Elrond and Elladan were already there when the Prince of Mirkwood and his friend entered the antechamber at the main entrance where the Elves of Lórien were, the Lord and Lady, plus a small gathering of guards. The elder twin was embracing his grandfather with a solemn expression and his brother took up before their grandmother in much the same way. Legolas retreated to an unassuming position, nodding his own greeting as the Lady of Light turned her gaze upon him. He had never met her before and found himself in awe beneath the immense wisdom held within those eyes. He felt as if she knew all there was to know about him and more. A wan smile played at her lips when he thought that. Quite suddenly he felt as though he were not alone as the weight of a powerful mind swept across his own. _You are valuable here, Legolas Thranduilion,_ she whispered within his heart and Legolas glanced away, taken by the certainty of her timeless voice. He wanted to be a help to his friends. He wanted that and nothing more.

Her mind left his as she turned her attention upon her family. "There is great pain here," she said softly, running her fingers through Elrohir's dark hair, letting the strands melt from her hand. "This will not be an easy time for any of us." She turned her head to look at her husband and Legolas found himself touched by the grace of her movements.

His voice grave, Lord Celeborn nodded and added his own words, looking particularly at Elladan. "Indeed and pointless quarrels will not help matters."

His grandsons exchanged glances, then both said together, "Sorry, Edwenadar.**1**"

Celeborn looked between them with endlessly patience and understanding. Though he did well to keep private his emotions, Legolas could see traces of sorrow and worry. The same was reflected within Lady Galadriel's eyes. It made these great beings seem more accessible somehow. As if hearing that, Galadriel turned towards him, approaching. "And you are he who suffered with Celebrían."

Legolas bowed his head as the profound guilt returned. If only he had done more. "I only wish…" he started to say.

The Lady of Light cut him off with the simple shake of her head. "Nay, Legolas. Do not hold such feelings within your heart. You were with her through the terror when she would have suffered alone. It is because of you she lives, for surely the sadness would have taken her away had you not been there to comfort her." Her face betrayed such warmth as she smiled, leaning forward to bestow a kiss upon his cheek. Despite himself he felt a flutter rush through him as she did so. When he looked up Elrohir was smirking. Galadriel stepped back beside her husband, speaking again in his mind. _You will be needed still, if you are willing._

_Of course, _he replied softly, meeting her gaze with a promise.

Her expression was not what he expected, deeply grave and penetrating. _It may cost you more than time, penneth._

He would have asked her what she meant, but her attention was taken with Lord Elrond as he motioned them to join him. His sons lingered behind, bidding the trio farewell—Elladan reluctantly, but not without affection and regret for his words towards his father. When they were alone Elladan looked up at his brother with a smile that asked forgiveness, muttering, "How does he always know?"

Elrohir grunted and messed up his twin's hair.

. . . . . . .

**Author: **Ruse

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:  
**1 – Edwenadar. – Second-Father.  
2 – Penneth. – Young one.****

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews! Sorry it's late again...sighs


	16. Shreds

**My Immortal**  
Shreds

* * *

"You hide something within your heart. A thing you have told no one, not even Elrond. What is it?" Very little could anyone hide from the Lady of Light. She did not pry deeply into the minds of those around her, allowed her loved ones and acquaintances a certain amount of privacy, but sometimes the heart wailed so loudly that she could not help but hear the anguish of their soul. Her daughter was trying to hide it, even from her own self, but she could not suppress it completely. Galadriel lamented inwardly at seeing her daughter so pained.

Celebrían stood at the window watching nature thrive beyond the walls of her home. It did not seem to comfort her. Her countenance appeared small and vulnerable, less confident and hopefully. The Lady of the Golden Wood shared a look with her husband and could see his eyes mirror the same thought. Still, they said nothing, allowing their daughter time. "What do you mean, Naneth?" she asked softly, still hiding from the truth within her.

Standing from where she had been sitting for the better part of the past two days, Galadriel moved like a shadow to where her child was. She brushed back Celebrían's curly, golden hair and drew her eyes to her face. "You have a choice lingering within your thoughts. Only if you accept that it is there will you be able to make the choice and be rid of the weight of it."

Any other mother may have looked away from the terrible pain that surfaced within her child's expression, but Galadriel would not back down from her daughter's emotions. Not if she had any chance of helping her understand and overcome them. Celebrían's eyes moistened and she shook her head. "Ai, Nana. I cannot make this choice. With it will come pain for all, no matter what I decide."

"What is it, child?" Celeborn asked gently, looking at her with gentle concern. He approached the two of them and raised his hand to her back to rub. Celebrían turned her eyes towards the window again, wiping at tears that had trespassed onto her cheeks. Galadriel recalled the relationship between father and daughter she had witnessed as Celebrían grew up. Many times had he comforted her with such tender actions, but it did not seem to work this time. He did not let that deter him. "Will you not speak it even to me?"

"If I speak it I will have to decide," she whispered, wiping her cheeks again.

The Lord of Lórien knit his brow, troubled deeply. "My dear, seeing you thus is as a wound has been dealt to me. Is there no words I can say that will ease your mind?" He drew her around patiently, lifting her chin that he could peer into her sad eyes. Celebrían drew her chin away and threw herself into his offered embrace. Celeborn brushed his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes as he held her. "There is nothing that cannot be healed with time."

Their daughter shook her head, her eyes held tightly shut. "I do not know if I can believe that, Ada. I do not know if I can bear the pain or the dreams anymore. I feel such sorrow and I cannot be rid of it." Her urgent voice dropped to a whisper. "I have been thinking of taking a ship into the West."

So that was what it was. Galadriel looked into her husband's eyes mournfully. Many things had been shown to her concerning the future, but not this. It was as if this vision had been denied them for a purpose, but what that was she could not guess. Taking Celebrían's hand, the Lady of Lórien said softly, "Do you think such drastic action is required? Do you give up on life here so readily?"

Her voice was sharp with her reply. "I cannot live this way! My mind dwells upon the terrible moments I spent within the caves. I hear their growling voices and feel the touch of their blades against my skin. My children, I do not want them to see me without hope. And…and I cannot bear the touch my husband!" With that admission came another quiet storm. Celebrían pillowed her face against her father's shoulder and clung to him as she sobbed. "I love him so and yet when he puts his hands upon me in the way of a husband I am filled with dread and memory."

Galadriel lowered her eyes, feeling the wall holding back her own emotions wearing thin. This would be a hard thing for all involved, but she understood that Celebrían could not be allowed to go on in such dreadful pain. She lifted Celebrían's hand and traced the contours of her fingers, saying softly, "Then you have already made the choice."

As she feared their daughter nodded, finally speaking her acceptance of the truth. "I am going to the Grey Havens."

Three forms traversed the hallways towards a destination currently unknown. It had been a good day. With the arrival of the Lady and Lord of Lothlórien had seemed to follow a lifting of the great burden, as if a wellspring of hope had bubbled up and cleansed the House of Elrond of all its pain. The twins were in high spirits and Legolas was grateful for it. The warning that the Lady of Light's words had left within his heart was all but forgotten by now. He grinned as Elladan spoke animatedly of taking a break, the three of them going on a little hunting trip as the two of them escorted the Prince of Mirkwood back home. "We will go on a hunt such as they have not spoken of in centuries, yes?"

Elrohir smirked at his brother's exuberance. "Indeed, though sadly, our dear friend here will only be able to watch our glory." He nodded towards Legolas' shoulder.

The elder twin nodded in mock mourning, crossing his hands before him solemnly. "I had not considered that. Well, I can say only one thing to that, mellon nin."

"And what is that?" Legolas waited for the inevitable.

Elladan gave his uninjured shoulder and good-natured pat. "Too bad."

Legolas shook his head, shoving his friend away from him. "Try not to sound so sympathetic."

"I can't help it," he laughed, darting his hand around, trying to hit Legolas on the head even as the Prince of Mirkwood blocked. "I am all broken up about it."

"Indeed," Elrohir agreed, avoiding the little tiff as best he could. Together the three of the rounded a corner. His attention drawn to Elladan, Legolas did not perceive Elrohir's sudden stop and ran into him. He stumbled, then turned to give his friend an annoyed expression, but it fell from his visage almost as soon as he had tried. Not one of them spoke, filling the hallway with a dreadful silence marred only by the calming of the breathing of one that had been upset.

His expression softened as he looked upon the stairway, upon the form that sat, his head bowed, his face resting within his hands. Raven hair tumbled down the stormy blue of his robe, loosened from its customary circlet. The item had been hurled across the room, Legolas saw, looking at the floor near his feet. He looked away when Lord Elrond became aware of the presence of others and met their surprised gazes. His gray eyes were shielded by the moisture of sorrow and his voice was heavy in desolation. "Teli, ionath nin," he breathed raggedly, pulling himself up with the aid of the banister. He stepped off the stair and motioned towards his study nearby.

"Not this," Elrohir whispered, following his father. He looked up at his brother gravely as Elladan lingered.

Legolas put his hand on his shoulder, trying to impart some sort of comfort through his gaze. Elladan exhaled, pale and looking as though he were entering a place of death as he said, "Telithon, Adar." Pulling away from his friend, the elder followed as well, in silence.

Out of respect Legolas did not go where he had not been beckoned. He waited in the hallway as the three of them retreated into the study. Suddenly all the freedom of the past two days seemed gone, as if it had been a dream that gave way finally to the bitterness of reality. Absently he bent down, picking up Elrond's circlet, which he carried to where he sank down into a nearby chair. Where it had lain was the shards of a broken vase, a delicate piece of glass that had housed a single rose. Water sprinkled the floor and the crimson flower was alone in the small puddle, its petals scattered. The force must have been terrible. Elrond would have to have thrown his circlet hard.

It could only mean something grave. Legolas thought about Galadriel's words, that he would be needed here still and that it would cost him more than time. What could it mean? What could he possibly do to mend the wounds he felt the family of his friends were now being dealt?

He could not hear what was being said behind the door that had been closed until only a crack remained, but when his friend cried out it came to him, filling his ears with the terrible emotion of the sound. Legolas closed his eyes, fingering the circlet, trying to block it out as Elladan yelled, "Tell me you are lying! Tell me what you say is not true!" Whatever Elrond's response was, the Prince of Mirkwood did not know, but his friend gave another cry of anguish.

The doorway opened and Elrohir exited, running his hands through his hair. He looked down with wide, pained eyes that did not hold understanding. What could have been said to cause such an expression? He wanted to ask, but knew to do so may cause more stress. Elrohir moved slowly to where his father had been seated upon the stairs, sat down and assimilated the grave news he had been told. Not long behind him Elladan stormed from the study, his eyes blazing in renewed fury that went beyond any that Legolas had seen since this terrible tragedy had begun.

He stopped between them, looking to neither his brother nor his friend as he spoke. "Legolas, you call yourself my friend and I believe you. Therefore as my friend I bid something of you in the gravest of need. Come to the stables at dark. Bring your weapons. Brother, I do not question whether or not you will follow." There was a finality to his tone that left no doubt in the mind of Legolas that when the sun fell he would indeed go to the stables, if nothing else than to try and talk sense into his friend.

Elladan departed their presence then, stalking down the hallway, both of them looking after his angry form. Feeling out of place, not knowing what to say, Legolas sighed and turned his gaze then upon Elrohir. "Whatever was said, I will be here."

His friend did not appear convinced that would be of the help required, but nodded his thanks nonetheless. "Your words mean a lot to me. And to Elladan as well, Legolas. Never doubt that."

The Prince of Mirkwood nodded silently as his friend got up and chased off after his twin. From the study came the final form, appearing no better than before. Though their reactions were different, each of them, they shared one common denominator between them. Each of their faces bore the semblance of disbelief and despair. He knew not what to say Lord Elrond, did not know that it was his place to say anything, but the pain etched on the elder's face compelled him to speak. It reminded him so much of the way his father had looked after his mother had been lost. "Are you all right, my Lord?"

Elrond moved with a quiet grace, approaching and reaching out. The younger gave him his headdress, noting the great sorrow in those age-wise eyes. "I am all right, Legolas. I believe."

Legolas stood up, not convinced. "If there is anything I can do to serve…" He felt the urge to look away as the Elf-lord met his gaze.

"Hannon le," he whispered, laying a hand on his shoulder as he moved to pass him. "You are a kind soul, Thranduilion. My sons are fortunate to have such friendship. If you will excuse me, I have things I must attend to."

As the Lord of Rivendell passed, he saw in his mind's eye the face of his own father. Whatever had happened was grievous indeed and it hurt him to see the evidence of it before him. Turning, feeling empty suddenly and the need to do something, he said, "Are you sure you will be all right?" His father had not been all right for weeks. His father had closed off a part of himself after the loss they had suffered. Elrond looked up and Legolas implored him with his eyes not to fall to the same grief. "They will need you." Why he said it he did not know, but Elrond seemed to understand.

"I will be here, Legolas. Do not worry." With that he turned away with a will not to be stopped again.

He felt cold inside and afraid, his joy for his friend's recovering their mother smashed now and replaced by the foreboding feeling that something dreadful was about to happen.

* * *

Au**thor: **Ruse

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:  
**1 – Teli, ionath nin. – Come, my sons.  
2 – Telithon, Adar. – I will come, Father.  
3 – Thranduilion. – Son of Thranduil.**  
  
**

**A/N**: Hey, thanks! :) Glad you guys are enjoying!! My poor sweet Elrond. sniffle I wuv him.


	17. Strength

**My Immortal**  
Strength

* * *

Wind whispered within the trees, covering any possible sound that he may have made with his footsteps. The mists sheltered him from any eyes that by chance could have seen him otherwise. Not that he was deliberately being covert, but he had a feeling tonight's mischief would need to be kept between the three of them. Legolas sighed as the stable came within view. He could see the light of a lamp glaring out from the open doorway. There within the dim a shadow stood saddling his steed. 

Picking up the pace, Legolas trotted over to where Elladan was, seeing Elrohir tucked away further within the small building, his own horse out and being prepared. "What's this?" he asked, coming into the stable.

Elladan tightened the straps of his saddle, then stopped and fixed his friend with a stubborn look as if he anticipating an argument. "We're going on a little hunt. I was going to ask that you come, but my brother has stated certain concerns over your health, therefore I will not bring the question before you." Though his words betrayed that he agreed with the wisdom, his eyes suggested he wanted something altogether different.

"A hunt?" Legolas spoke in a puzzled tone. Nothing had been explained to him, no news of what Elrond had said. He knew something dreadful had to have happened to drive the twins out in the middle of the night. "Why? Where are you going?"

Looking up, Elrohir shook his head. "Perhaps it is best you do not know. Worry not, Legolas."

The Prince of Mirkwood had had just about enough of the mystery these two were weaving between them. Knitting his brow, he said sharply, "Worry not? You run off without telling me a word of what has happened and I am not to worry? You ask much of me. Too much."

"You are right," Elladan said grimly, gathering the reins into his gloved hands and pausing his work. He fixed Elrohir a look when his brother made to protest. When his twin was silenced he went on. "My brother and I go to hunt down Orcs within the Misty Mountains, for rest assured where there is one small gathering there are more. I will not let what has happened to my family happen to another if I can prevent it."

"What has happened?" Legolas persisted, shaking his head.

Elladan looked away from him, unwilling or perhaps unable to speak of it. As he mounted the prince looked to the younger twin for the answers he wished to have. Elrohir fixed grave, sad eyes on him as he said, "She is leaving. She is sailing to Valinor as soon as possible. Ada overheard her speaking to our grandmother."

The pain of that statement hit Legolas more than he had thought it would. His dark blue eyes trailed down to the floor. He had guessed already this was a trip for vengeance and could now understand why it had come so suddenly. They were losing her, in a manner of speaking. True, they would someday be able to see her again across the sea, but Legolas knew well the pain of missing that particular presence. _It isn't the same_, he told himself, trying to bury the screams as he always had. But the well of darkness within that so readily disappeared before seemed hard pressed to go away now. "Is there nothing that can be done? Will she not listen to anyone?" he whispered, blinking and tearing himself out of his reverie.

The elder shook his head, mounting his chestnut steed. "Nay. Nothing. Nothing at all. I spoke to her myself."

"She cannot take joy in life, therefore she seeks sanctuary away from this place," Elrohir supplied, mounting his own horse. He sighed and shook his head at their friend. "Take rest, Legolas. We will return shortly."

He felt frustrated inside, feeling with every fiber of his being that this was a bad idea. "No, you cannot do this. You are angry, hurting…"

"You're right!" Elladan raised his hand in a forestalling manner. "We are angry. There is nothing you can say that will change our minds, Legolas."

Legolas knit his brow, raising his voice. "This is dangerous!"

"Aye," he replied simply, but sternly. "It is dangerous. But it is not without due cause. If you are inclined to help then come with us."

Elrohir shook his head. "He is injured. We cannot ask…"

Elladan gave him a testy look. "Which is why I do not ask it, but nor would I turn away the help of a true friend if he offered. Come or stay, I am going to hunt those animals down." The Prince of Mirkwood stood a moment in indecision. Going along into the Misty Mountains would be highly dangerous, no question about it. Elladan was right. Where there was one small group such as those that had taken he and Lady Celebrían, there would be more of them. It took only one more phrase to tip the scales. "How many mothers will they take before we finally take the initiative to stop them?"

With him that well of darkness cried out for the justice his long years had denied him. He was tempted to embrace the anger he so carefully tried to repel and knew somewhere in his subconscious that should he go along with this he would move beyond temptation into falling. But he felt so hungry for it, more than he had in years. He had never dwelt upon his mother's death as he had these past few weeks and deep within he felt the demand of release in one way or another. And that is what ultimately saw him to the stall beside Elrohir's where Arwen's mare was kept and also what had cautioned him not to leave the House of Elrond without his bow and swords. Elrohir watched him seriously, then in acceptance he said to his sister's horse, "Sîdh, Baranloth. Sen no Legolas. Ho boe le."

As he led the mare from her stall Legolas gave her a soft, reassuring pet along the nose, then quickly saddled and bridled her. She made no protest as he mounted, sealing his fate to go along.

The three of them entered the night air quickly and made through the woods surrounding their home, avoiding the front gate. Moments of long silence passed, each lost to his own thoughts, their surroundings growing darker and the forest more dense, until Elladan stopped and looked to the other two. "There is no way we can leave here completely undetected. My father's guard is far too keen of eye and ear for that. But this path may buy us some time at least. It is rougher than the main road, but quick."

An hour passed before they broke free of the valley, taking a rocky path towards the main road that would lead to the High Pass. Once there the path was easier. The darkness seemed to enfold them and there was not a sound to be heard save the voice of nature. They relaxed a bit, but knew that by now someone would have reported their passage from Imladris. This knowledge kept their pace quick. It would be a demanding task to stay ahead, but Legolas did not doubt that they could manage to evade pursuit.

None of them perceived they were already being trailed.

He was only half listening to the voices that echoed sorrowfully from the Hall of Fire. His people gathered there now after having been told the news. They sang songs for their Lady's departure, recounted tales and shared memories. He could not bring himself to join them just now, so Elrond sat alone in the dining hall at his table, his hand wrapped around the stem of a goblet that contained wine he had scarcely touched. As the moments passed into a full hour after dinner he pondered life and its mysteries. He pondered the gift of foresight he had been given, how indiscriminant his visions seem to come. There seemed to be no reason or rhyme. Why had he not been given the knowledge needed to save her from suffering all that she had? Even Galadriel in all her power had been denied this.

In the end the gift went where it willed, giving what knowledge the Valar saw fit to give. This is what she had told him. Elrond let go of his wine cup and leaned back, running his hands through his hair. He removed his circlet and laid it down, closing his eyes as he tried to forsake reason, for apparently it had forsaken him in this instance. She was right. The gift told as it willed, not as he would always have it or even she. Spurning such things would be pointless. But his mind tracked the question again and again. Why? Why had this happened?

There was a quiet rustle at the entrance nearest to where he sat. Elrond perceived footsteps approaching him lightly. A dim, irrational hope that it was his wife, coming to say she had decided to stay, bloomed within his breast before dying in the shadow of the truth. "Elrond, naeg toba le. Avo chebi ha a no bell, egor gurin ionath lin dannatha nedh dúath."

"Have you seen this in my future?" he said softly to his wife's mother, opening his gray eyes to look into her wise, ageless face. Celebrían shared in her beauty and the similarities compelled him to avert his eyes as they moistened. "I will be strong. My sons will not fall into darkness."

Galadriel approached, gently holding her skirt within her hand, lifting the delicate materiel from the floor. She sat at his right and extended her hand, laying it on his forearm. "Ages ago when I first looked upon you I knew yours would be a life from which much would be asked. It is true, but do not forget all that you possess."

"To whom much is given, much is required," he replied in hushed tones. "This is almost too much to bear, however." He kept his eyes fixed on the table beneath his hands, his brow knit as he tried to reign in his grief. "I almost wish to join her across the sea."

Her hand tightened against his arm and she bent her head down, peering into his face until he looked up. "But you will not. You will be strong and remain. That is your path."

He was beyond asking why that must be his path. He had let go of that question the day after Elros had died. No amount of anger would change the path any man must walk. All there was left was to walk it for the greater good. So instead of asking he nodded, knowing he could do nothing less than accept it. His part was not done, his people and his children needed him. "I will remain."

For a long moment her eyes seemed to measure him, her blue depths glittering like starlight. He did not back down from it, nor did he doubt the truth of his own words. He knew he must go on, no matter the pain. Her hand let go of its hold on his arm and she sat back as another, more urgent presence entered into the room. The look upon the young guard's face did not promise the news would be good. Elrond composed himself quickly as he stopped before the table and bowed. "My Lord, I have something I must tell you. Your sons have left Imladris in the company of the Prince of Mirkwood."

Lord Elrond sat up quickly, his pulse suddenly racing. "What?" he said sharply, then offered the Elf an apologetic look. "Did they say where they were headed, Rinthir?"

Rinthir shook his head. "Nay, my Lord. They did not leave by the gate, but by the forest to the north. I did not think it was my place to question them, but considering the circumstances concerning the family I thought I should make certain you knew, if you'll pardon me, my Lord."

The Lord of Rivendell shook his head, shoving back his chair and coming to his feet. "You did well, for I did not know. What are they thinking, leaving now of all times?" He pondered it, then gave the guardian a speculative look. "The forest to the north, you say? Towards the Misty Mountains." Looking to Galadriel revealed nothing in those luminous, starry eyes of wisdom. She seemed to be watching his reaction to the news as if she had already guessed this whole affair would happen. Somehow he knew what he must do. "Rinthir, saddle my horse. I am leaving. Galadriel, will you…?" He did not have to voice his request that she stay and care for Celebrían. By her expression he knew she had already made the choice.

Rinthir rushed from the room, going to do his lord's bidding, and Elrond trailed after him towards the nearest hallway. Her still, strong voice halted him at the door. "Be strong, Elrond. Do not allow your pain to rule you, for what happens at the High Pass will determine their fates. Mandos calls for the Prince of Mirkwood and if he follows your sons will become lost in the bloodlust of revenge."

There was a certain gravity about the way she spoke that renewed his urgency. Knowing time was not on his side, he stepped over the threshold and reaffirmed his promise. "I will be strong."

* * *

Au**thor: **Ruse 

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:  
**1 -Sîdh, Baranloth. Sen no Legolas. Ho boe le. – Peace, Baranloth. This is Legolas. He needs you."  
2 - Elrond, naeg toba le. Avo chebi ha a no bell, egor gurin ionath lin dannatha nedh dúath. – Elrond, pain covers you. Give it away and be strong, or I fear your sons will fall into darkness.**  
******

**A/N**: Sorry for the wait! I've decided to get the show on the road however. So I'll update every day/other day if I can help it. ;) Thanks for the reviews!


	18. The High Pass

**My Immortal**  
The High Pass

* * *

The closer they got to the Misty Mountains, the further away became their worries of this dangerous hunt. Riding hard offered little time for talking, but their small breaks to rest the horses over the few days it took were animated with plans of what they would do and the recounting of old fights they had won over the fell servants of Sauron. The idea of cleaning out the Misty Mountains seemed better and more easily carried out with each league they traveled. They were, of course, not without a prudent sense of caution. They knew enough not to rush right in. When the time came they would stop, leaving the horses somewhere safe, and travel further on by foot so as to remain unseen by their quarry until it was too late.

By now the mountain loomed ahead of them, a goal that held for each more fury than fear. Down the worn and time-battered path they could see the trail leading up into the High Pass, a vision only an Elf could see at this distance. At the lead, Elladan halted his mount and held up his hand, signaling the others to stop. Dismounting, he gave his horse a reassuring pet and whispered, "Easy, Giliond. Stay here and keep the other two out of trouble, okay?"

The horse nickered and shook his head, digging his hoof into the dirt in discontent. His ears were pinned and he even went so far as to give his master a warning nip. Elrohir looked at the horse speculatively. "He seems nervous."

Elladan looked away, a token sign he was not going to be honest with himself. "Nonsense. He's playing. Aren't you, boy?" He rubbed Giliond's nose gently.

"I think we should at least be cautious, Muindor." The younger twin gave the trees and road a keen sweep with his eyes. "I do not like the feel of these woods."

"You said that when last we had come through, Elrohir. We will not charge into battle thoughtlessly." He eyed his brother critically. "You're not backing out, are you? After all we talked about? After seeing our mother suffer as she has?"

Elrohir's eyes hardened a bit. "Of course not, Elladan. But neither do I believe we should abandon the signs of caution in favor of hot blooded blindness."

They purpose of their trading words was not born out of ire, Legolas perceived as he watched them, but out of the need to strengthen their resolve, for here within these woods he felt his own weakening. He felt a kind of unspoken nervousness in the way the trees creaked in the wind and the forest choked out the starlight. Nature was silent here as if afraid of something and he knew they were close to their targets. Carefully dismounting the mare he had borrowed so as not to injure his shoulder, Legolas scanned the surrounding woods, then ended his friends' quarrel. "If you wish to go on, then let us go. The cover of night is fading with each moment we tarry." His night-blue eyes encompassed the twins, awaiting their reply.

Elladan nodded, giving his horse a final pet. "We'll be back, Giliond. Take cover, mellon nin."

The horses left the road and entered the dark woods, leaving the three Elves to their task. Once again Elladan took the lead, his brother and friend quick to follow. They entered the forest, but stayed near to the road, their eyes and ears sharply waiting for any sign of danger as they moved like shadows towards the High Pass. Walking beneath the tall trees, Legolas peered around him, seeing scant sign of the starlight he was so accustomed to.

It was not long before Legolas saw the first of what they were hunting. He stopped and whispered so low he could barely hear himself, "Wait!" The twins needed no more than that, halting in their tracks and doing as he bid. The Prince of Mirkwood moved slowly ahead of them, drawing his bow both silently and quickly. He notched an arrow and pulled back easily, ignoring the pain of his healing shoulder. At his side Elrohir noticed his struggle and drew his own bow, but did not fire, waiting to see if Legolas's arrow would fly true.

It did. Legolas let go once he had the goblin in his sights, exhaling his own held breath in relief. The arrow sailed through the air and burrowed into his target's throat, causing him to wince at having missed his forehead. With a gurgle the goblin collapsed to the earth, clutching his throat, and for a long moment the three Elves searched for any sign anyone had heard that. No one came to check on the fallen creature.

Elladan turned with a sigh, shaking his head. "That was very foolish, my friend. You should stick to the sword until your shoulder is whole again."

Rubbing his tender flesh, Legolas nodded, looking again at his fallen foe. "Aye, I think you're right. I wanted to test myself."

"You wanted to show off, you mean," Elladan quipped, pushing the prince's good shoulder. "I am impressed, now please leave the marksmanship to my brother and I."

"Right, right." The Mirkwood Elf smiled as they started off again.

The mouth of the pass was only mere minutes away, beckoning them on to their mission. Their advantage was a clear night, devoid of rain or mist, making the task seem that much more tangible. Under cover of trees they continued on, not even stopping to examine the goblin as they passed. His glittery eyes were open, but there was no breath of life in him. The arrow had severed his breathing passage.

When they approached the sloping entrance to the pass they lost the seclusion the forest offered, for the trees were sparse here, little more than stumps as if someone had chopped them down. "Keep an eye out for any openings," Elladan warned, creeping up onto the rocky terrain. "We know of one that we passed when first coming to find Nana, but the shallow end of it was empty at the time. We should probably start there."

The mountain pass seemed innocuous enough as they walked on, saying nothing and keeping their eyes on the rocks. From the placing of the lookout Legolas guessed that the goblin lair would not be far from the entrance to the Misty Mountains. Some ways up the path Elladan halted them and pointed up a rocky incline. It was barely visible behind the large rock formation before it, but upon closer examination Legolas saw that there was indeed an opening.

Nodding, Elrohir pointed and said, "Come then. Let us finish this."

The three of them exchanged grave glances, then drew their weapons, creeping towards the opening. Gravel moved beneath their feet, but so agile where they that it did not make a telltale sound. The closer they got, the more they could hear. There were indeed servants of the darkness in there, speaking the guttural black speech. The proceeded carefully and once at the top where the wan light bled free of the chiseled threshold, they stopped.

The doorway opened up into an earthen landing with a curving path leading further down. The three Elves crept inside, careful to make no sound and to hide themselves from any vision. Peering over the edge they saw a fireplace on the wall opposite them and a crude table where four goblins sat in blissful unawareness. But what drew the attention of the Prince of Mirkwood was not the scene of his enemy, but a passageway to the right of the fireplace. There would be more of them somewhere inside the darkness beyond. They could be sure of it.

Elrohir stepped out of the cave, motioning them on and they followed. He took a breath. "There are more of them to be certain. They may burrow deep, but a fight will draw their attention. We could use our bows, you and I, Elladan."

The elder nodded and Legolas shook his head. "That would leave a third if I stayed back. I _could_ handle him with my bow. Then we might have a chance at taking the rest of them by surprise."

"But your shoulder," Elrohir began in a dismissive tone. "Not only do I not wish you to waste your strength on such a thing, but if it does fail you it could alert all of them."

"I am not a weakling," Legolas protested, reaching for his bow.

Elladan put his hand on his arm. "He is right. You could hurt yourself and then you would have no fun later when the real fighting begins." He nodded towards the prince's back. "Take out your swords and prepare to run down there and take out the remaining one."

For a moment Legolas hesitated, but relented, knowing they were right. If he shot before the other two, altering the goblins, then they could escape into the passage, awakening others to the fray. He drew his twin swords and waited as his friends removed their long bows from their backs. When the weapons were ready the three of them crept back into the darkness, looking down to the lower level where their foes awaited. Legolas crept down the curve as far as he dared, then gave the twins a nod. Together they raised their bows, arrows drawn and simultaneously let them go. The arrows sailed, burying within their targets, causing near immediate death. Seeing them keel over, Legolas darted towards the third one relentlessly.

The attack on the remaining goblin was nothing more than what he expected, a struggle that ended with his enemy at his feet despite his disadvantage, but with unforeseen consequences. After the goblin had fallen he still heard raspy breathing that bordered on the edge of laughter. Turning towards the curve he saw three other enemies that had been hidden by the depth of the cave, sitting at a table near the wall where meters above his friends had shot from. They stood up, drawing daggers, smug grins on their faces at having taken him by surprise. "There are more of them!" he shouted, already hearing the twins rushing to join him.

Not waiting for the Elves to make it down the curve, the three of them rushed Legolas. He held himself in the defensive, dodging a blow that would have taken him in the stomach had he allowed it. He twisted to his left, then turned, gripping one of his foes by the arms and dragging him away from the other two. It snarled at him, stringy black hair hanging in front of its face and eyes shining in the lust of blood. It fought back with a vengeance, shoving him to the wall with hands on his shoulders. He groaned out at the pain on his injury, then took on an angry visage as he threw himself forward, knocking the goblin off balance and into Elladan's waiting sword. The Elf grunted and shoved the body off his blade as his brother sidestepped him, heading towards the other two.

"All right?" he asked, looking at the Mirkwood Elf's shoulder.

Rubbing near the raw skin, Legolas nodded. "Not too bad."

A groan from nearby drew their attention to Elrohir being punched. He stumbled back, then regained his balance, thrusting his sword and clipping the offending goblin's arm. It howled and dropped its weapon, gripping a now bleeding wrist. "Would you two mind?" he hissed, struggling with his other enemy.

A sudden hiss from the blackened entrance announced the presence of four more goblins joining the fight. Elladan exhaled and shook his head in a long-suffering manner, holding himself in the defensive as Legolas moved to aid him. Elrohir managed well enough on his own, taking out one of his enemies, then moving on to the next. Legolas kept an open ear as he focused on the new fight before him. Two of them approached him at once, one with wooden club and the other carrying a morning star. The one with the morning star swung out and Legolas ducked the spiked ball, then rolled away just in time to avoid being taken by the falling club that sought to end his life. He hastily sent one of his swords into the thigh of the goblin bearing the club, eliciting a pained growl.

The other one kicked and his heavy boot hit Legolas in the hip as he turned to avoid it. He groaned, but could afford no time to do anything else. He had to get up and away, so he ignored the dull aching that began and pulled himself up. None too soon, for within seconds the morning star fell, hitting the rocky floor and creating a small crater. Legolas thrust his sword out, but his enemy managed to evade it and grab onto his shirt, pulling him up close. He stood face to face with the dark servant of Sauron as it growled and glared him down, trying to intimidate him. When it saw he would not falter, he was shoved away.

Having been prepared for that, Legolas did not lose balance and was quick to steady himself, holding his swords with an expression of schooled patience. He darted his eyes around, watching for his friends and saw similar struggles going on between the other two Elves and their beastly foes. His sweep won him the insight of his other enemy that had fallen to the floor. He had waited for the Elf to become distracted, then raised his club to strike him down. As soon as he swung Legolas darted forward, dragging the standing goblin forward to accept the blow for him. The beast was so surprised by his audacity that it did not recognize the tactic until it was too late. Legolas whipped him around, trading spaces, and the club slammed into its legs with crushing force, sending it to its knees.

Taking advantage of the fallen goblin's pain, Legolas plunged his swords into each side of the neckline of the beat-up, leather cuirass that the beast wore, driving it down its neck through its chest, ending the struggle.

He looked up, seeing another body fall from Elladan's care to the floor and Elrohir finished off his remaining foe just in time for another two goblins to race from the dark hallway.

* * *

**Author: **Ruse

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Thanks for the reviews! Here you go, as promised! Next chapter soon! :)  
**

**A/N**:


	19. Temptation

**Immortal  
**Temptation

* * *

The sound of hooves beating the worn path towards the High Pass filled the night air. The rider was swift, knowing he could waste no time in reaching those whom he sought. Lord Elrond traveled alone despite the insistence of those of his house that had warned him of the trouble. He would have accepted the help, too, but she had warned him to take no one from Imladris with him on this task. There were few times in his life he had ever questioned the wisdom of his wife's mother, so he now made his way towards danger without aid.

Or so he thought. As he neared his goal, the Misty Mountains looming ahead of him like the darkness of a starless midnight, Elrond caught the sound of something within the woods to his left. Normally he would have dismissed it, but something caused him to stop and listen a moment. Reigning in his mount, he focused on the sounds of nature, of which there were remarkably little. Still, there was something there. He heard the echo of hooves on the forest floor heading his way.

There was only one and he found himself tense in expectation, thoughts of tragedies having happened to his sons flitting across his mind. Elrond rested a hand on his sword, supposing it was not an Orc, for they seldom could coax horses to their service, but knowing he must be cautious. He fixed the woods with a keen eye until a form began moving from the shadows into the open. Under the moonlight his pale hair was illuminated with a soft, silvery glow and the Lord of Imladris relaxed his guard. "Haldir, I had not expected to see you roaming the wilds."

The Marchwarden of Lórien grunted, riding up to his side. He nodded towards the woods. "When I saw them leave, I followed your sons and the Prince of Mirkwood. Their horses have been left in the woods. It has not been an hour yet since they have passed."

Elrond absently gazed towards the High Pass, feeling a small amount of relief that an eye had been kept on the three young princes. "They have been out of significant trouble, I trust?" When he looked back the Marchwarden nodded. He exhaled, petting his horse. "Then we should make haste that it remains that way. I would be most grateful for your continued help, Haldir."

"Of course, Lord Elrond."

Not long passed before the foot of the mountain met the hooves of their horses. There they dismounted, following the telltale signs of recent passage with their eyes. His mount was nervous, he could tell, likely sensing the touch of the shadow strongly here. He gave the horse a pet, whispering gently a command to wait for him here.

They traveled up the pass quickly, but with cautious eyes and ears, searching the rocky path for where the Elves may have turned. Their trail was easy enough to track; they must have been quite eager to carry out this foolish mission. But soon more than vision testified to their passage. Elrond felt his adrenaline rush as the sounds of fighting filtered to his ears. Haldir's abrupt intake of air confirmed what he was hearing and together they hastened on towards the battle.

The obscure opening was not far and when they saw it Elrond had a hard time not rushing in blindly. He crept beyond the threshold with scanning his surroundings, but when he heard the voice of one of his sons crying out, he abandoned caution. Following a winding slope downwards, the Lord of Rivendell drew his sword and halted at the bottom where he saw goblins fighting the three Elves he had sought.

Immediately he took action, seeing his youngest son in trouble. Elrohir had fallen on the floor, his sword lost beneath the feet of those attacking his brother, and a goblin stood poised above him ready to bring his cruel blade down and end the Elf's life. Deadly silent, Elrond stalked across the rocky surface and lifted his weapon. Before the goblin could strike Elrond crossed his blade with the creature's, then threw him back with a hard push. Beneath him Elrohir breathed, "Ada?" as a sigh of relief.

"You should not have harmed my son," the Lord of Rivendell hissed, glaring at the oncoming goblin. Not often did he fight alongside his sons, but seeing them now in danger awakened in him a feral sort of rage that had been building slowly ever since they had brought Celebrían home.

The goblin twisted its head around, glaring uncertainly, but nonetheless remaining firm. "Your son should not have come here," it retorted in a raspy growl, with dark, dirty fingers clenched hard around the hilt of its short sword. "His trespass is my gain." The beast thrust his weapon, a test blow meant to give him insight on the Elf's fighting style.

Elrond was swift and agile, but did not commit all his energy to such a meaningless strike. He had learned long ago not to allow himself to be goaded into revealing everything so early on in the fight. The goblin struck out again, this time more seriously. The true fight had now begun.

They traded several blows before the goblin caught him off guard for the smallest fraction of a second. The blade caught Elrond by the hand, slicing his tender skin, but not deep enough to make the wound serious. It was enough for the creature to take advantage of, however. He growled and kicked, taking the Elf-lord in the hip, knocking him back a few paces. From behind he heard one of his sons gasp, "Ada!" but he remained focused, undeterred and maintaining a firm on his sword.

He raised his weapon and drove forward, meeting each stroke of his foe's head on. The goblin fought well enough, but in the end no match for the Elf's superior training. On a hastily made down stroke the goblin stepped forward, his blade missing Elrond's head as he sidestepped, and the effort needed to take that step closer was all the Elf needed. He evaded the beast's sword, then darted for its wrist, jerking it off balance as he thrust forward, taking his enemy in the stomach.

The goblin groaned terribly, flailing, but Elrond did not linger to watch it happen. With one swift kick he tore his sword from the creature in time to meet another foe coming from the darkness. With a thud his blade met the rough wood of a club, digging a notch into the surface. Laughing, the new goblin reached at its side and pulled a long dagger from its belt, jabbing it towards Elrond's side. Elrond threw himself back from the attack, jerking his sword from the club and curving it down, trying to knock the dagger from his enemy's hand. The goblin laughed, pulling his weapon away.

The club swung towards his head and Elrond ducked rapidly, then thrust his sword forward, but to no avail. This one was quicker and more observant than the last. "I am going to have your blood, Elf," he hissed, his silvery eyes flitting up and down the Elf-lord's form. He sniffed the air and a chuckle rattled around in his throat. "I smell it already."

He darted his dagger this way and that, but Elrond recognized when he was being baited. The creature's club swung at what it must have assumed was an opportune moment and the Lord of Imladris dodged, prepared for the blow that would have knocked his sword out of his hand. Instead of hitting its intended mark, the heavy wood hit Elrond's cut hand, causing him to falter. Darkly the goblin laughed at his victory, fingering his blade. Straightening, steeling himself for the inevitable blow, Elrond was surprised to see his enemy waiting. When those dark eyes flitted over his shoulder he knew it was too late. Arms encircled him, one along his waist and the other across his shoulders, jerking him backwards.

"Ada!" he heard, but could not turn, nor would he have until he heard the cry that followed, then the sound he had feared ever since entering into this terrible place. The sound of someone falling. The goblin holding him through his struggles gripped his hand squeezing until he let go of his sword and it clattered to the floor. Letting out a yell of rage, Elrond kicked at the goblin in front of him as it bore down on him. It stumbled back, crouching and rubbing at a pained abdomen with a glare marring his already fearsome features.

Over him the Lord of Rivendell saw Haldir running to his aid. His silvery hair flashed and he gave voice to a forceful thrust as he ran the goblin through, then twisted his thick sword and yanked it free again. Elrond wasted no time in taking advantage of the confusion. He felt the arms of his captor loosen enough that he could draw his arm out, then slam it back into his enemy. The goblin doubled over, still holding as he could, but it was not enough. The Elf-lord tore free, then bent, sweeping his sword back into his grasp. As he turned back the goblin threw himself forward in a last effort to overtake him, but as they collapsed Elrond managed to free his own dagger. The goblin did not see it coming, clawing for him, gripping his shoulder and slamming him down against the rocky surface. Groaning, he thrust his dagger into the goblin's back near the kidney, causing it to jerk upwards suddenly and desperately.

Elrond knit his brow and shoved his foe off of him, climbing to his feet and looking down as the goblin tried to crawl away from him. Lifting his sword, he approached easily and finished the job, then turned towards his sons. Very few could tell the difference between his sons, but Elrond could make no mistake. The one that had fallen had been Elladan. Elrohir hovered by his left, kneeling. Above him stood Haldir and beside him Prince Legolas, rubbing his shoulder.

Racing towards them, the Lord of Rivendell dropped to his knees at his son's right, taking in his wounds. A blade had taken his side and blood spilled past his clothing. He was a brave, seasoned warrior, but fear gripped the heart of Elrond as he beheld Elladan's state. Pulling back the cloth, he looked at the terrible wound, preparing himself for more grief. But it was not that bad. Relief flooded him and absently, he whispered, "I can fix this. I can fix this, my son." His eyes moistened as he met the half-lidded gaze of his eldest. "You should not have come here," he breathed in a suddenly thick voice. "What more do I have to lose?"

Elladan averted his eyes, shaking his head. "Ada, I am so sorry…"

The Lord of Rivendell brushed the water from the rims of his eyes, bleeding his raw emotions into anger as he completed his son's sentence, "…but you _did not know_! Elladan, I…"

A hand on his shoulder stilled him. He looked up, watching as Legolas swept by towards the dark entrance to the catacombs, then turned, his eyes alight in the lust of battle. "We stand victorious, Lord Elrond, but there are more of them back there!" Elrond frowned, his expression stern as he stood up, but Legolas seemed not to notice. The prince shook his head, looking back towards the inner nest. "I know what you would say, my Lord, but I say think of what they have taken. From _all_ of us."

Elrohir stood and approached as well, his blade still within his hand. "Legolas…"

Legolas looked down on his fallen friend with sad, hard eyes. "No. Too long have I kept my heart hidden behind a veil. I have no mother for the sake of creatures like these. They took her from me, just as they have taken Lady Celebrían. She was beaten…and…tormented," his voice broke as he shifted his eyes to the floor. "All while I watched. I was nothing more than a child! No. I have let them escape my wrath for far too long." As he glanced again at the darkened doorway, his voice lowered a tone. "I will have my vengeance. Come, Elrond and Elrohir. Have yours."

Coming to stand with him, Elrohir shook his head, touching his arm. "I had no idea."

Wiping at tears of his own, trying desperately to hide them, Legolas nodded his head. "I and my father do not speak of it." He evaded Elrohir's concerned eyes, looking straight into Elrond's with a heart broken drive to empty himself of all that he had held back, imploring the elder Elf to say that he was right, that his need for revenge could be fed without repercussions. "I watched her suffer, just as you have watched your wife suffer. Who next will fall to their sickness of their desires?"

Elrond inhaled a shaky breath, feeling the memory of watching her suffer night after night wash over him. He had heard her voice as she dreamed, moaning and crying. Saw the shadow lingering in her eyes as she tried to forget, but could not. Yes, he wanted vengeance, for himself and his sons. For this other young one that mourned the loss of his mother even millennia after her passing. Elrohir appeared only too eager to oblige the prince's wishes. They could rush in there, finish the job and then return home, having rid the world of another force of darkness.

* * *

**Author: **Ruse

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**A/N**: Again, thanks for the reviews!!! Means a bunch!


	20. No Choices Left

**Immortal  
**No Choices Left

* * *

It seemed so easy a thing, to ignore his greater wisdom and enter the deeper parts of the mountain to banish from the world those that would have taken his sons from him, but the Lord of Rivendell remembered also Galadriel's words.

Looking into the darkness of the doorway, he saw them enter with the will to seek out the revenge that seemed so temptingly sweet and goblins waiting in ambush for them. They swarmed over the Prince of Mirkwood as he entered, taking hold of his shirt. Blow after blow came against the young Elf as he fought hard to get away, but could not. Angered by his struggles the goblins gripped his wrists, forcing his arms apart even as he struggled. "Stop your squirming!" one of them hissed, drawing a dagger and bringing it to the young prince's chest. Elrond saw his son cry out in fear at what was about to happen, unable to go to his friend's aid because of the creatures that surrounded him. The Elf-lord tried to go and rescue Legolas from the certainty of death, but Haldir stopped him with force, taking his shoulders and yelling, "No, my Lord! You mustn't endanger yourself!" Blood poured forth, wetting the Wood-Elf's tunic as the dagger was pressed down into his flesh at the heart, his captors too tired of his struggling to allow him another moment's breath.

A wave of sickness covered the Lord of Imladris as the vision faded, leaving the pale face of the dying Prince Legolas a fresh image on his mind. Elrohir shook his head, lowering his blade as he watched his father in concern. "Ada? Ada, are you all right?"

"No, we must leave," he replied, bringing himself out of it. He motioned them forward, conscious that even as he stepped forward, Legolas stepped back, his expression growing angry.

"Will you leave them to hurt others?" he demanded, his eyes still pleading for the Elf-lord to make this okay.

Elrond shook his head. "Legolas, we are still in very real danger here."

"We have overcome great odds this night. We can overcome still," Legolas retorted.

Forming a response, Elrond opened his mouth to speak it and even as he did he saw movement behind the prince. With this sudden insight he hissed, "Get away from there!" but as he said it a shadow appeared. The ambush had grown tired of waiting. He raised his sword in preparation.

His son whipped around just as one of the creatures shoved at him, causing him to fall to the hard floor. Elrohir was quick to respond, taking the goblin with his sword, beginning the battle.

Another took Legolas by surprise, dragging him back towards the doorway. Two others came out, hitting him and grabbing for his arms, and Elrond feared his vision would come to pass even though he had chosen against allowing this madness to continue. He could not be held back. Glancing back, seeing Haldir poised and ready to fight, distracted, he bolted towards the goblins as his son finished off his attacker and joined him.

"No, my Lord!" the Marchwarden yelled protectively, but it was already too late for him to stop the Lord of Rivendell.

Elrond was quick to come against the one he had seen stab Legolas in his vision, raising his sword to prevent the terrible end he had forseen. Totally unprepared for so personal an attack, the goblin fell easily, taking Elrond's blade to the stomach with a shrill cry. Before he could recover his sword one of the others grabbed Elrond by the shoulder, using the brute strength of the Orc kind to twist him away and shove him up against the stone wall. It raised a gauntleted fist, back-handing the Elf-lord with a force that made him dizzy. He fell back, fighting to remain conscious as his eyes closed of their own volition.

Amidst the pain he heard his son cry out not long before the voice of Legolas joined his in a much more terrible way. His heart raced as he imagined he had failed to protect the youth. With a growl Elrond shoved his foe off of him long enough to see Legolas on the floor, on his hands and knees. The Prince of Mirkwood held his hand to his chest protectively, then drew it away, looking at his palm with wide eyes. There was blood there and standing above him a goblin wielding a knife. He had failed. Shaking his head, now ready to give in to the pain and anger that so dominated his emotions, Elrond jerked his sword from the floor and turned, watching another creature hit Legolas over the head. The prince collapsed then and the Lord of Rivendell raised his sword, re-entering the fray.

With the aid of Haldir protecting Elladan, father and son ended the remaining goblins in a small bloodbath and by the end of it Elrond was exhausted emotionally, battered and bruised just like the old days of battle in his youth. He sheathed his sword and pointed to Elladan, asking the Marchwarden, "Will you please check on him?"

Making an effort to sit up with help, Elladan groaned and shook his head. "I'm fine, Ada. What of Legolas?"

As Elrond looked down upon the fallen form the words Galadriel had said came back into his recollection. She had told him that his sons were in danger of falling into darkness, that whatever happened here would decide their fates. Kneeling and taking Legolas by the shoulder, he carefully turned him over and looked down at that pale, young face. He felt suddenly very tired of this world. It asked so much for the fleeting moments of joy it allowed. He did not want to tell his sons that their friend had been slain.

But as his heart lamented his eyes caught something, so he looked closer. It was the movement of the prince's chest, betraying the breath of life still moved within him. The Lord of Rivendell felt along his tunic, and then ripped the fabric apart at the tear to see the wound that should have taken his life. Beneath he saw blood, but only a surface scrape along the center of his skin. Something must have prevented the killing blow from taking place. Relief flooded Elrond like a cool stream. "He lives!"

Elladan, satisfied, lay back against the rocky floor again, breathing, "Thank the Valar."

"Indeed," Elrond responded, wiping blood from his broken lip as he let the last hour's tension bleed away from him through a moment of peace. He could feel his bruises and cuts intensely just now, not to mention the scars that his heart had acquired. If the threat of further battle did not linger over them he would have been content to rest a while, but he knew they had to be out of here soon before goblins were left mustered up courage enough to attack again.

He looked up as the Marchwarden of Lórien spoke, cleaning his sword on the leather tunic of a fallen goblin. His tone was reproving. If Haldir was one thing, he was free with his tongue. "This was a foolish venture. If one is inclined to hunt down the servants of darkness he should have the sense about him to bring along a suitable number." He gave Elladan a pointed look. "Three is not that number in this case." Elladan grunted in reply, stubbornly refusing to admit any more guilt than he already had.

Elrond pursed his lips, once more gazing down at the fallen Prince of Mirkwood. "Worry not. My sons will hear all of my thoughts concerning this once we're safe at home. Would you be so kind as to aid my son outside?" Haldir nodded respectfully and knelt down beside the groaning Prince of Rivendell. Elrond then looked to Elrohir. "Take my horse and run back to where you left yours. Quickly."

"Of course, Ada," Elrohir agreed and headed up the curve.

As he watched Haldir aid his eldest son's faltering steps, Elrond murmured, "I have my work cut out for me." Elladan was in no immediate danger of death, but neither was he in any state that his father felt comfortable with. He himself was worse for wear and the Prince of Mirkwood had certainly not been helped by this battle. In a hasty examination, Elrond probed along the back of his head where he had been hit, finding it wet back there. Legolas groaned, his eyelashes fluttering. Bringing his fingers out and looking them over in the wan light, he saw blood there. Quickly running his hand along the wounded flesh again, Elrond assessed the severity of it. The cuts were minor; the goblin must have been wearing gauntlets with sharp edges on them when he hit Legolas. This one would have to be handled with care.

Now half awake, his brow knit in pain, Legolas whispered raggedly, "Did we get them?"

Elrond nodded and watched as the Wood-Elf opened his eyes halfway. "We got them, penneth. Can you stand?"

"I think," Legolas answered, attempting to push himself up. He groaned at the effort and accepted the help Elrond offered.

As they stood the Elf-lord noticed the younger was very quiet and not very quick to meet his gaze. "How do you feel?" he asked, not wanting to push the prince, but not wanting he should bury his pain again.

Touching the back of his head, Legolas winced, then exhaled tiredly. "Foolish," he admitted, looking up finally. "I am sorry I did not listen to you. I just wanted to find justice."

The Lord of Rivendell gently urged him towards the curve, ready to lend a helping hand if needed. "We all let hurt get the best of us. I am sorry I did not insist sooner. You see I was tempted to follow you."

That caused the prince to look surprised. "You were?" Elrond nodded. Legolas frowned and winced again as he took a step up. "I could have gotten you killed, you and Elrohir."

"Now is not the time for self-reprove. We have survived and should accept that blessing without regret. Learn from our mistakes and our pain." Once free of the dark cave, they stepped into the night air just as Elrohir rode up with the horses and dismounted to help Haldir get Elladan seated on his horse. Elrond helped Legolas down from the mouth of the cave and to the borrowed horse that was waiting for him. Once Legolas was on the mare, the Lord of Rivendell gave him a curious look. "How did you avoid taking that blade to the chest?"

The Prince of Mirkwood shook his pained head, then shrugged with a wan smile. "The one you had killed before being dragged off…the goblin holding my right arm tripped over him and let go just as the other made ready to kill me. I shoved his blade away."

The close call made Elrond exhale, rolling his eyes as he mounted. "We are indeed very fortunate. Now if we could manage to get home in one piece, perhaps we can put this whole affair into perspective." He looked to Elladan, who favored his wounded side. "Perhaps we can learn how to avoid it happening again, hmm?" His son nodded with a degree of shame in his expression.

"Are you very angry, Ada?" he asked, sharing a look with his brother.

Elrond shook his head, looking out towards the way back home. "I was at first, but not anymore. I am only glad I have not lost my sons." He inclined his head to Legolas. "Or their true friend." He looked to the Marchwarden, seeing those keen eyes trained on the mouth of the cave. He could guess what Haldir would be thinking, too, so without delay, he said, "Come. We will speak of this more when we are out of danger." Haldir nodded his tactical approval of that statement.

The rest of the trip would prove to be quiet, Elrond foresaw. He quite looked forward to it.

* * *

**Author: **Ruse ****

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:  
**1 – Penneth. – Young one.****

**A/N**: Almost done! whew Thanks for tuning in!!


	21. Epilogue Departures

**Immortal**  
Departures

* * *

There at the main entrance to the Last Homely House Legolas stood, dressed in the fine clothing that had been given him, his bow and quiver slung over his back and his swords tucked away in a traveling pack. The robes he wore were soft and clean, pleasant against his skin. Being comfortable was a welcome change. He was a hunter and usually took to the wilds, but after the past few weeks he decided a return home might do him some good. No more dangerous chases, no more investigations for a time. He would rest his mind as well as his body. And, he supposed, seeing his father would be good not only for him, but for the Elven King himself. It was time to talk about certain things they had left buried for far too long.

He was not the only one leaving this afternoon. Lady Celebrían was well recovered, but her eyes had never recovered that same countenance he had seen when first he looked into them. The burden of sadness in her gaze was heavy and though he thought they had all held a glimmer of hope this day would not come, inevitably it had. She was going to the Grey Havens this day, alone with her husband and a single guardian, Glorfindel the Balrog Slayer. Together they came from the hallway followed by their children. Elladan, still favoring his side, approached with a solemn expression. "Finally leaving us, are you?" he said, trying to sound light-hearted, but he couldn't quite hide the catch in his voice.

The Prince of Mirkwood took a deep breath and nodded. "You and your family will need time, I understand. In truth I feel a need to make time with my own father. Perhaps heal some old wounds."

With a wan smile, Elladan knocked his shoulder. "Don't go growing up on me, Legolas. My sense of reality is shaken badly enough." The short moment of jest faded almost immediately. Sighing, the elder Prince of Rivendell looked gravely into his eyes. "I am sorry I never thanked you for what you did for my mother. I am sorry for all the trouble we got you into. It was wrong of me to goad you into coming."

Shaking his head, Legolas said, "I understand why you needed my help. I could not have let you run off on such a dangerous hunt without my aid."

"You could have simply alerted my father," Elladan countered mildly. He grinned lightly. "Perhaps all the trouble you got yourself into was, in fact, your own fault, after all."

The younger twin came over with a long-suffering expression. "Perhaps your sense of reality is not as focused as you think it is. You get everyone into trouble, Muindor."

Elladan ran his hand through his hair, preening slightly. "Aye, that is so. But I am always there to get you out of trouble again," he said sagely.

"_Ada_ got us out of trouble this time," Elrohir corrected him with an upraised eyebrow.

His elder brother shrugged. "He did, but I _was there,_ was I not? I said that I was always there, not that I always managed to actually get you out of trouble. Really, Muindor, pay attention."

Elrohir groaned in playful disgust. "You are impossible." He shared a smirk with Legolas, but the ever-present shadow of pain dominated the mood.

The final party leaving today was not long in entering the antechamber. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn arrived with their guardians, completing the small gathering. Legolas watched and waited as they embraced their daughter and her husband, moving on to the children with bittersweet farewells. It pained Legolas to see his friends so troubled. The hurting would last long, but he was grateful that they were able to say farewell to her instead of having their mother ripped away as his had been

Once their hushed farewells had been made, it fell to him to come and make his good-byes, for his time to leave had also come. He would be leaving with the Lothlórien Elves and traveling within their company until they passed the Misty Mountains. Elladan first embraced him, whispering, "Hannon le, mellon nin." Though he had been angry Legolas could see his departure affected the elder twin deeply. He smiled softly as he pulled back. "We shall have to go hunting again soon."

Legolas laughed at that as Elrohir embraced him with a shake of his head. "Feel free to rest a long while before we do," he told him with a grin.

"I shall," he replied, and then looked as Lady Arwen approached. She had a gentle smile like her mother's.

"Hannon le, Legolas of Mirkwood," she said softly, bowing her head slightly. "Be safe as you return home." He bowed his head to her in response, offering her a mirror of her smile.

Behind her was Lord Elrond, whose eyes were shaded with pain, but held esteem and thanks. "You have done much for my family, Legolas. That shall not be soon forgotten. I wish you safe passage to your home."

From nearby Haldir grunted. "Do not fear, my Lord Elrond. I shall be keeping this young one out of trouble even unto the very doorstep of King Thranduil."

At the Prince of Mirkwood's sigh, Elrond smiled. "Namarie, Legolas Thranduilion. Addelid lin terithar aen an."

Legolas bowed his head in respect to the Lord of Rivendell. "Hannon le, Elrond o Imladris."

The next farewell drew the most emotion of all, unexpectedly. When Lady Celebrían came to him he felt a tension rise within him. Her arms encircled him delicately and her voice was low as she said, "Hannon le, Legolas, for all you did and all you tried to do. I stand in your debt for the affection you have shown my family."

Legolas hugged her back with a soft intensity, closing his eyes over her shoulder. He did not know why, but this moment between them both drew his buried pain out and eased it all at the same time, as if saying goodbye to her filled the void that had been left behind by his inability to do so with his own mother. "Namarie, Lady Celebrían. I wish you all the best. Be well."

She held him a moment longer, then pulled away with a smile that made him long again for his own mother. Seeming to sense that, she reached out, tucking his hair back as a mother would. "You have a good heart," she told him, then stepped back to allow him to join her parents.

The Lord and Lady began out the door with their guardians and as he followed, he gave his friends a final look. Not long Lady Celebrían and Lord Elrond would leave as well, bound westward towards the Grey Havens. Their farewell would be a long one, Legolas assumed. He sighed as he stepped into the sunlight and descended the stairs in the company of the Lórien Elves. Once they reached the horses he looked back. A hand rested against his shoulder and he turned into the starry-eyed gaze of Lady Galadriel. "It will be difficult, but it will grow easier as time passes. When next you see them the evidence of that will be apparent. Come now. It is time for you to turn your heart upon home."

They mounted and passed the gates of Rivendell, turning toward that eastward road and as he made his heart's farewell to Imladris, he thought of his mother and father.

* * *

**Author: **Ruse 

**Disclaimer**: Lord of the Rings isn't mine and nor is Elrond, unfortunately, nor Legolas or Aragorn. No infringement intended.

**Sindar:  
**1 – Hannon le, mellon nin. – Thank you, my friend.  
2 – Namarie (Quenya), Legolas Thranduilion. Addelid lin terithar aen an. – Farewell, Legolas son of Thranduil. Your return will be looked for.****

**A/N**: The End! Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I hope you enjoyed my tale. :-)


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